So Different Now from What It Seemed
by NastElilBuggr
Summary: How could Shelby ever explain to Rachel that the reason she let her go was because she wanted her so badly? Set during Theatricality.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: After getting a few requests to continue with _This Hell I'm Living_, I wrote this. I wanted to look at Theatricality from Shelby's perspective and try to understand why she is the way that she is. I wasn't able to finish everything before Funk tonight, but I wanted to share this just in case some of the details shared about our favorite surrogate contradict those I've written. (Edit: So far so good…I'm glad I've never thought of Shelby as a math whiz.) Please, enjoy and let me know what you think!**

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With the 25,000 watt spot following her around the Carmel High stage, Shelby Corcoran felt alive. While she was taking the opportunity to teach her kids a thing or two about being theatrical – who better to channel than Barbra, after all? – she took thrill in having a moment in the spotlight again. It was so bright she couldn't see their faces, but it didn't matter: they could see hers, and after years of watching Fanny Brice's heart break she knew exactly how to emulate the even the subtleties of the dramatic performance.

"_Funny…how it ain't so funny. Funny girl…"_

She finished with her arms wrapped around herself, using her own deep sadness to further express the necessary sorrow and hit the lesson home for her kids. She could feel their admiration coming from the seats below, and when coupled with the powerful beam of light illuminating her, she was simultaneously invigorated and reminiscent of better days.

"Ms. Corcoran?"

Shelby turned her head to find the person addressing her and her heart began pounding like a bass drum when she saw who it was. Rachel Berry, the little girl she had given birth to but had never met, was standing at the base of the stage, her brown eyes wide and scared and focused right on her. Shelby was petrified, oblivious as to what to do. She hadn't felt this staggered since the day her doctor informed her she'd never have children again and it seemed as though Rachel was just as dazed; her mouth moving as though trying to find words but none were forming. She momentarily thought of Rachel's ability to display confidence when everyone's attention was on her as she witnessed at Sectionals and it occurred to her that perhaps it was not Rachel's intention to seek out her mother this day.

"I'm Rachel Berry," she said finally, her voice clear but not strong. "I'm your daughter."

Only a moment ago, she was completely in her own world on stage, channeling her loneliness, but suddenly that feeling was obsolete and was very swiftly being replaced by panic. While she spent years imaging this scenario, part of her had expected to have a minute of preparation to find the perfect words to say to initiate the perfect reunion she always wanted. She didn't expect to suddenly be feet from her daughter, pulled from a trance by a fear-filled face with at least a dozen people witnessing it. It was one thing to choose to share one's internal state with an audience in order to emphasize an act, but as she looked down at Rachel, the stares from the seats in front of her were boring into her like a hundred drill bits. This was not meant to be shared with them.

She turned her genuine look of shock into one that expressed coolness and approval at Rachel's presence and simply said to her, "Yes you are." Then that coolness turned to coldness as she reached into her pocket to remotely turn off the spot and stared fiercely down at her unwanted audience. "Practice is over. I want you out of this auditorium in one minute! Is that clear?"

Her Vocal Adrenaline kids, very familiar with that tone, scrambled out of their seats and hurried to empty the theatre to find dressing rooms and change out of their metal-and-lace costumes. Out of the corner of her eye she saw two students who were not her Glee kids on the upper level, and she glared at them until they also began clambering out of their chairs. Shelby ignored the loud whispers her students hissed at each other or their obvious glances over their shoulders as they rushed out and instead watched as Rachel's fright melt into an expression of simple apprehension. She understood the feeling well.

"You listened to the tape," Shelby stated rather than questioned. She had already figured out why Rachel was looking so emotional and shocked in her auditorium; it wasn't that she came here to seek Shelby out, it was that she and the other two students above were spying on their competition (she couldn't blame them, really) and Shelby's voice must have struck a chord in the girl. It seemed rather ironic that two _Funny Girl_ songs brought them together: "Don't Rain on My Parade" drew Shelby to Rachel, and Rachel just witnessed her perform the film's title song and it pulled her down to where she stood, appearing so vulnerable. It should have felt more whimsical than it did, but instead the tension was nearly unbearable. "That's how you know? Just because of the tape?"

She nodded slightly. "I have a very sensitive ear. And you look like me."

Shelby's lips twitched upward at that. She had always thought of Rachel looking like _her_, and found the girl's self-assurance charming.

"You remember the tape?" Rachel asked faintly, apparently taken aback by the older woman's correct presumption. Obviously, Jesse St. James' acting chops were as good as he claimed, for he was able to convince his young girlfriend that the cassette was a relic from her childhood rather than a manipulation in the recent past. But Shelby couldn't lie to the girl.

"I asked Jesse to make sure it got to you."

She allowed the girl a moment to process this. Her face seemed to harden, and for a second Shelby questioned her approach and whether the confession of her and Jesse's deception was a good idea.

"Uh…just…just take a seat, I-I'll be right down," Shelby requested with a gesture to her desk in the seats. Rachel nodded, and Shelby tried to smile but it wasn't working. Instead of the sheer excitement and happiness she had always hoped to feel in this moment, she was stuck with a clenching, wrenching stomach as she crossed the stage to the stairs at the end. It was a long walk, but finally she reached where Rachel was sitting with perfect posture and a blank face and hesitated.

What was she supposed to do now? While she had always felt connected to Rachel, to the girl she was a stranger that she had just introduced herself to. Not to mention there was the whole giving-up-her-own-child thing that always made anything related to Rachel tense. If she were the teen, she would probably have some involuntary hard feelings towards the mother she had never met. So she gave her space; taking a seat in the row behind her and a few seats away gave them both room to think.

"I want you to understand everything," Shelby said seriously, leaning forward in her seat so she could look at Rachel. "Why I did what I did. What do you know?"

"Just…just that my dads' picked a surrogate based on intelligence and beauty," she responded, clearly uncomfortable relaying the compliment when they had yet to know each other. "And when you were pregnant they made sure you ate well and took vitamins to make sure I was healthy. They've told me about how they would play classical music and talk to your belly in hopes that I would hear it."

Shelby sat back in her seat, and though her eyes looked toward the stage they did not focus on anything there. Rachel's fathers did not lie to her. She didn't have a single cheeseburger during her pregnancy; that was a fact that had slipped from her mind over the years until now. And she remembered listening to Mozart, Elgar, Brahms and Vivaldi for months on end until she began going crazy. But her dads couldn't have told their daughter about how Shelby too had talked to her in the womb, giving her any advice that the 22 year old could think of and telling the baby about how lucky she was going to be. There was a lot that Rachel would never know unless she told her.

Shelby decided for both of their sakes that she had to be frank. And she couldn't think of a better place to start than the beginning. "I was fresh out of college when I saw the ad in the paper. Your dads offered me enough money that I could to try and make it in New York for a couple of years. While I knew it was a big job, I figured carrying someone else's child wouldn't be so hard. I knew your dads would love you."

That last part was an undeniable fact. The way that the two men had behaved around Shelby's growing belly had been adorable to the point of nauseating—though that could have partly been the morning sickness. The further along she got, the more difficult it was to watch and witness the intimate moments they had with their unborn daughter that she was privy too; it was hard because she had begun to want what she couldn't have and had resented the men for it.

"Did you ever regret it?" Rachel asked quietly, interrupting a building silence that Shelby hadn't even noticed. She wondered if Rachel had thought about that question as much as she did over the years.

"Yes. Then no. Then so much."

She had a period in her life when she did manage to find peace with what she had done. After all, she had given a wonderful couple the child they had always wanted: how could anyone not find some satisfaction with that? Still, there was always a nagging in the back of her mind, a longing for what was partially hers, and when she knew for certain she was forevermore barren, that feeling amplified exponentially. She had her chance to have children and she blew it. She had given her baby to someone else.

"When did you realize it was the right time for me to find you?"

A miniscule laugh escaped Shelby's throat as she remembered seeing her daughter perform weeks ago. She had been so amazed not only because the girl was fantastically talented, but she had all the potential that Shelby had at that age and more. The memory of watching Rachel work her way up to the stage, singing that Barbra number with everyone watching her in awe, was enough to bring a genuine smile to her face. "I saw you sing at Sectionals. You were extraordinary. You were me."

"Was it hard for you to not become a star, to not have your dreams come true?" Rachel asked, and that feeling of happiness she had experienced when thinking about her connection with Rachel began drifting away, like a boat out to sea.

"It felt like a broken promise," she answered grimly, thinking back to all of the time she wasted. She had spent more than half of her life dreaming about being a star and having her name in lights, and when it didn't happen it almost mockingly ripped her open inside. "Like the Fisher King's wound: it never heals." And just like this wound of lore, it poisoned the rest of her life until there was little left. Combine that with that contract she had signed nearly 17 years ago and there was a perfect explanation for why Shelby Corcoran was the cold, ruthless bitch people talked about behind her back.

"Wow. Genetics really are amazing; you see the world with the same fierce theatricality as I do. Even the way we're sitting right now is so dramatic and yet we feel so comfortable with it."

It wasn't all because of genetics. However Rachel turned out was because of how she was raised and the experiences she had, none of which Shelby had any access to. She wished she knew what made Rachel the way she was, but it was possible she would never know.

"I've missed so much," she said weakly, feeling the tears that she never allowed to fall begin to form and the agonizing ache grow in her stomach. She finally turned her eyes to the teenager in the row in front of her. Did she also feel sick with longing for what they would never have? Was she happy to finally know who her mother was? She leaned forward to see her face and realized with sadness this was the closest the two of them had ever been since the moment of Rachel's birth. "How do you feel?"

She genuinely wanted to know. As she had acknowledged, she had missed so much in Rachel's life but she had spent every day since New Direction's Sectionals performance thinking about how she wanted to be a part of Rachel's future. She wasn't sure how, but she hoped to try to be a parent to Rachel. That could all begin by a question as simple as one expressing concern for her little girl.

"Thirsty," Rachel replied, and Shelby was confused. There were times, like this one, when she was so caught up in her mind that she forgot simple things like drinking, eating, and sometimes even breathing, so excluding the simple arbitrariness of the teen's answer she found it beyond her comprehension. Rachel turned her head, and Shelby's heart began hurting from overexertion when she met those beautiful dark eyes. "When I was little and I used to get sad, my dads would bring me a glass of water. It got so I couldn't tell if I was sad or just…thirsty."

Thirsty. She finally understood…but she understood too much now, she realized painfully as she sat back in her chair, her eyes pulling away from Rachel's focused gaze. Rachel had two parents already, and they loved her so damned much. There was no need for her.

It also became clear to her that she wasn't sitting in that auditorium seat because she wanted Rachel to have her mother; she tried to connect to her so she could have her daughter. It was incredibly selfish and she couldn't believe how awful of a person she was to have put Rachel in this situation.

"Uh," she started uncertainly, glancing at Rachel, hoping the right words would flow from her by virtue of their genetic bond. It was all they had. Not surprisingly, she did not have the perfect thing to say and her trembling hands went up in front of her in defeat. "I shouldn't have done this," Shelby admitted with self-loathe lining her voice. She got to her feet and thought about how muddled this entire reunion was, not only because of how it occurred but also _why_ it occurred. This moment that they were experiencing was one her imagination played in her mind a million times a million different ways, and even her cynical way of thinking couldn't have prepared herself for how emotionally terrible this all was. "This was supposed to feel good. We were supposed to have some kind of slow-motion run into each other's arms. This is all wrong."

"Maybe we can just go to dinner or something, just to get over the initial shock?" Her tone didn't give it away, but when Shelby looked down at Rachel she realized that the girl was begging her not to go. She hoped Rachel didn't think that any of this was her fault, but she couldn't find it in herself to explain that it was she who was screwed up and who wanted so desperately to be a mother that she was willing to disrupt Rachel's clearly wonderful family so she could have a place in it.

"I'm so sorry Rachel," she said to her, and she meant it more than anything in the world. It was breaking her heart to look down onto the girl's hauntingly dismayed face and she put her hand to her forehead, trying to figure out what she could say to make this all better. She knew she needed time to figure it out. "I-I'll call you."

With one last look at her disorientated daughter, she turned and walked down the stairs, focusing on the exit and thinking about the brown eyes that were undoubtedly following her insensitive departure.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you Fufuluff, mdiggory, and Phases Of Obsession for your reviews! Sometimes it isn't the quantity of the reviews that matter, but the quality. You all said such nice things. So, without further ado (Did you know you can use the word "ado" in a sentence without that phrase? I just looked it up. It means commotion, bustle. "There was a lot of ado on the McKinley's stage during their funk number." Oh, and did you know they said "funk" or some variation 31 times in the last episode, excluding when it was written down or sung? That means it was said at a rate of 1.3658 times per minute. WTH. …This totally defeated the point of the "Without further ado…" didn't it?) I present your update. I hope you'll enjoy and please review! **

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Shelby loved teaching. During a four-year period, she could watch one of her students go from an ignorant child to a knowledgeable adult, or from painfully shy to assertive and dynamic. There was so much she could do for them all to help them become better human beings.

Unfortunately, being surrounded by senseless and uncontrollable teenagers on a constant basis had its negative effects on many of the teachers, particularly those who were not as mentally strong as she considered herself to be. They were subject to the same behaviors as their students, such as gossip, and it was a constant source of annoyance for Shelby. She was glad that she spent most of her day in the Drama & Music Building, which included the auditorium, but occasional visits to the main building were a regrettable part of her job.

When she arrived to her classroom the morning after her surprise meeting with Rachel, she wasn't startled at the odd, shifty behaviors of the students. Teenagers had this habit of being anything but subtle; they all knew. When she had a block of time free between her second and third classes, she often took that time to head over to the faculty lounge to get a cup of what was constantly fresh coffee (it was often the only way to retain motivation for most school teachers). The moment she walked in, the half-dozen or so faculty members there all turned their heads and hushed their discussions, their behavior ridiculously similar to the students. Clearly, the gossip had passed from her Vocal Adrenaline kids to their friends to the teachers in no time at all. Three hours into school the next day and she was already being whispered about by kids and adults alike. Had they no shame?

But she didn't care. She was used to their rumormongering. For example, every three to four years the students would start up a scandal that she was a lesbian, and since she dated so little over the last decade and was so hard-edged and independent, it typically had enough fuel to make it around the school before dying out. Even though the story about Shelby's long-lost daughter seeking her out in the middle of a rehearsal was true, she didn't think spreading it around campus in whispers was any better than discussing her sexuality.

She poured some of the steaming brew into her mug and sipped it black, all the while ignoring the eyes watching her. Finally, she turned and smiled at them. No better way to confuse people.

"Good morning," she said amiably, making eye contact with her colleagues before leaving them to discuss her ordinary behavior and all of its possible connotations amongst themselves.

It was at her lunch hour that she received a page to drop by the principal's office immediately, which to Shelby meant sitting through an unnecessary and unpleasant meeting with her boss rather than enjoying her sandwich and yogurt parfait. It wasn't the first time; every time the rumors began milling about her, Geoffrey Lancaster wasted no time pulling her in to his office to discuss them. In the last six years that he had been working, she had been in there twice because of the lesbian gossip (and countless times about Vocal Adrenaline), and it wouldn't be so annoying if he actually held some concern for her. He was always more worried for his anti-gay mindset and the conservative reputation of his school.

She passed the secretary in the main office with a simple smile and knocked on the principal's open office door. "Hey Geoff, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, you're late," he said, barely glancing up at her. She resisted the urge to make a face; she came over as soon as she received his message. "Sit down."

She wanted nothing more than to get this over as quickly as possible, so she remained standing and asked him, "What's this about, Geoff?"

The middle-aged man peeked over his reading glasses and sighed at her unsurprising impertinence. "I've heard word that you had a visit from your daughter yesterday on the Carmel campus."

"What of it?" Shelby challenged. There was no rule that said she couldn't have guests on school property or anything of the sort, and school had been out for about an hour when Rachel had arrived. There was no reason for her to be here.

"As you know, I've been required to read your file a few times over the years." His tone suggested that she had done some wrong-doing to warrant the search of her file, which irritated her. "There is no mention of any children, and before I began here as principal you had taken a great deal of time off for medical leave related to reproductive issues. I'm sure you understand my concern over the obvious disparities present in this situation."

Did he think she had lied about her medical issues or something? She tightened her lips and furrowed her brow in anger. She didn't reply immediately, knowing she could say something very uncouth if she did. When she had herself under control, she said calmly, "If you look closely you'll see that my surgery was only seven years ago. I'd be quite impressed and amazed if I had some child younger than that show up here alone and unannounced." Okay, maybe the sarcasm was over-doing it, but this was ridiculous. "And legally, I don't have any children."

"And why is that?"

"I don't see why this is a matter to be discussed."

"Anything that could affect the wellbeing of this school is worth me knowing, Shelby."

"Oh, I'm sorry; has my daughter's visit caused distress among the parents? Have any of the students suffered psychological consequences as a result of their practice being cut a half an hour short yesterday afternoon? Has my ability to teach been compromised?" It was the actress in her that incorporated the superfluous tone of false alarm to her mockery. "If you can give me a good explanation as to how my personal life affects your school, we can talk about this. If not, I have work to do."

She didn't wait to be dismissed. She was tenured and had the most vital position in the money-making machine that was Vocal Adrenaline, so she had little to fear of her administrator. Moreover, she had no desire to stay and explain to her boss that she once grew a baby for a homosexual couple. She was better off annoying him for a few hours with her poor attitude than present him with an explicable reason to hold contempt for her. After she left, she paused for a few seconds at the secretary's desk to apologize if pissing off Mr. Lancaster had any adverse effect on her, and when she made it back to her office she had only a couple minutes left of her break to enjoy her lunch. Needless to say, she was not as nice for the rest of the afternoon as she normally tried to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews! I did my best to respond to you all personally, excluding the people who have disabled private messaging (You're missing out! :-p). A couple of people I've talked to want me to include some Jesse/Rachel, but I'm not going to do that. Sorry. Since this is from Shelby's perspective, and she's part of the reason for any drama/relationship at all between the cute, over-achieving couple, I have a feeling she'd want to stay out of it. With that said, I present to you the next chapter: Let the mother/daughter relationship begin! **

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It was becoming another long Vocal Adrenaline practice after school that day. The kids seemed to have understood her point about theatricality, but they were still rough in portraying it in their dancing. She had no desire to work on their vocals if they were going to be accompanied by a sloppy routine. She stopped rehearsal about five different times to work individually with those who were having the most trouble with the movements, and it was nearly 45 minutes in before she acknowledged their improvements without following up with a critique.

"Yeah, looks better guys. Take five," she told them. And, because she had been told about it repeatedly for days and just didn't have the patience for it that particular afternoon, she added, "And ladies, I don't want to hear about chafing because you're being forced to wear metal underwear. Not my problem."

After sliding away the microphone, she picked up her pencil to write a few notes down on their progress. It was still rough, but they were getting there. She knew the kids would have the dance figured out in a couple of days and by then she would have the sheet music finalized for the vocal arrangements. By next week, this song would be perfected; another winning number to add to their ever-growing set list. Shelby hated the idea of not having options and vaguely remembered New Directions' near flop at their Sectionals when their songs were taken. That would never, ever happen to her.

"Mom?"

Shelby looked up at the unfamiliar name, her pulse increasing at the sound. Hearing the term wasn't odd for her, considering she worked with a bunch of children dependent on parents, but never in her life had _she_ been called Mom, save for the few times her extremely flustered and stressed students called her that by mistake.

She wasn't sure if she was surprised to see Rachel approaching, not after how she had ended things the day before. If Rachel was anything like she was, which seemed more and more likely as Shelby came to know the girl, Rachel hadn't stopped thinking about their mess of a reunion since it occurred. If the teenager was here because she doubted whether her mother would actually call, then Shelby took offense. She was a woman of her word. She just needed some time to figure things out, including what her priorities and desires were and what they ought to be. If that was too much to ask for, then she had another reason to be mad at herself for causing further strain on Rachel.

Still, there would be cause for Principal Lancaster to be fussy if one of the members of a rival glee club kept showing up during her practices. That needed to be addressed.

"Honey, you gotta stop sneaking into these rehearsals."

"It's kind of important," Rachel replied timidly, and Shelby waited for elaboration.

She looked so young; maybe it was the way her hair was in flat pigtails or that out-of-place light blue cape she was wearing. It contradicted so greatly with the young woman she talked to in the auditorium yesterday who asked intelligent, levelheaded questions to the mother she had only just met and who had observed their similar intense postures and outlooks on life. Rachel began to carefully unbutton the cape she was wearing to ultimately reveal another, even more juvenile outfit underneath.

"Oh dear God."

What the hell was she wearing? Was that a costume? She really hoped so—she would love the girl no matter what, but if she had the desire to wear a bunch of deflated stuffed animals out of the house for no good reason then perhaps they did need to sit down and talk for a while. But she was going to give her the benefit of the doubt, assume it was an outfit for Glee Club, and question whether Will Schuester had any clue what he was doing. She fell back in her seat and continued to stare at the sight in front of her.

"My dads can't sew," Rachel explained, and as Shelby's eyes scanned the roughly attached dolls she felt some sympathy. She taught herself sewing from a young age because her mother never took the time to teach her. Most of her knowledge was from Home Ec. in high school, which many of the schools have since done away with in the budget cuts of the last few years. She knew that Carmel scrapped the class about eight years earlier (trading it instead for "culinary" and "interior design" classes meant to encourage careers in viable fields), and she wouldn't be surprised if Rachel's school had done the same. "I really need a mom right now. Do you think you can help?"

Her quiet question echoed in Shelby's head like bells in a church. She spent Rachel's entire life imagining the moment when she would be able to step up to the plate and be a mom to her, but she would have to admit it never played out in her head like this. At least, never in her life could she have cooked up that dress Rachel was wearing in her mind, but that was the least of her problems.

She never decided what the best course of action would be. She longed to have Rachel so badly, to support her and teach her everything she knew, but that was the trouble. She had been so preoccupied with her own desires that she hardly considered what was best for Rachel. It was vital that whatever decision she made in this moment was good for both of them. Or, at the very least, just for her daughter. One thing was absolutely certain, however, Shelby determined upon continued examination of Rachel's attire: her daughter desperately needed help. It simply worked out that she really wanted, and could, give it.

"I really can't cancel practice again," Shelby began carefully. She felt the terrible pang of sadness when Rachel's face fell further, and scrambled to clarify her point. "But you can wait in my office until we're finished."

When a smile spread across the girl's face, Shelby knew that the emotion she was feeling now was a thousand times better than the one that just fled her gut. It was worth it to do anything to make Rachel happy. Is this how parents normally felt?

"Okay," Rachel said cheerfully, and Shelby's lips turned up slightly to match her smile.

The older woman fished out her keys and held out the one for her office. "Head out the west door and make a left. My office is down the hall on the right; you can't miss it. I'll be there as soon as we finish up."

"Thank you," Rachel said, and when she reached forward to take the keys Shelby felt her fingers brush against her hand. She shuddered, knowing it was the first time they had ever touched. She hoped Rachel didn't notice her reaction.

Just as the teen was walking past her to leave the auditorium, her Glee kids began filtering back on stage. Shelby quickly turned in her chair and hissed at her daughter, "Button up your coat!" to which Rachel grinned over her shoulder, completely unabashed, and pulled her cape shut before walking out.

Shelby chuckled and knew she was becoming increasingly fond of the girl each time she saw her. She faced the stage again and saw all of her kids were just staring at her, perhaps confused at her smile after seeing her glower all day. They hadn't even bothered to pull the lace back over their faces so she wouldn't see them gaping. She wiped the look from her features and replaced it with a more expected firm one.

"What are you just standing there for?" Shelby barked into the microphone. Some of the students looked at each other before they rushed to take their places while others wasted no time. She smirked and waved her pencil in their direction. "That's more like it! Okay guys, start it from the top. Five, six, seven, eight!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: In honor of the finale tonight, I decided to post this extra long update for you! I'm excited and sad all at once; I don't want the season to end! It means we'll have to wait months again for more of our wonderful guilty pleasure; it was hard enough the first time! But I'm sure your terrific reviews will get me by, just as I hope more updates will get you by. We'll help each other through these tough times!**

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The hallways were always quiet at this point in the afternoon, though it was still relatively early considering the sun hadn't yet vanished beyond the horizon. There had been countless times that Shelby hadn't gone home until long after dark, but today she had a good excuse to head home at a reasonable hour. And she was scared shitless about it.

She was focusing on keeping her breathing slow and steady as she neared her office. Rachel had left the door cracked, and through the gap in the door Shelby could see her sitting in her office chair, scrawling on a piece of paper. She quietly entered so as not to distract the girl's focus, but Rachel had been correct about her sensitive hearing.

"Mom," Rachel said as she looked up in surprise, and Shelby sighed at the name. She wasn't sure if it were proper. A mom is someone who has always been there. She was no mom.

"I hope you were able to keep busy."

"I was outlining a paper for history. Is it okay that I used your computer?"

"As long as you weren't peeping at my Vocal Adrenaline stuff, it is perfectly fine."

Rachel laughed lightly. "It was tempting."

They both packed up in silence; Rachel folded up the sheets of loose-leaf paper that she had been working on and put them in her pocket. Then she helped Shelby log out of her computer while the older woman pulled together the work she had to do that evening for the next day's classes. Shelby wasn't sure what to say to break the uncomfortable quiet until she was locking up her office and they were walking out towards the parking lot together.

"How did you get here? Did you drive?"

"I don't have my license. I took the bus," Rachel admitted, keeping pace with Shelby's long strides as they walked.

Shelby stopped suddenly when a horrible thought struck her. She cursed loudly and buried her head in the hand that wasn't gripping her bag. "I left you here yesterday without a ride! God, what's the matter with me? I'm so sorry, Rachel…"

"It's okay," she said, but it didn't make Shelby feel any better. How could she be so thoughtless? The girl was barely legal driving age, and though she had arrived with two other girls to the theatre the day before, she left alone, meaning there was a tremendous chance she didn't have a way home. And the so-called responsible adult with her didn't even care to find out if she'd be okay before she left her alone like the spineless coward she was. How could she possibly expect to be a mother to this girl? "I called my dad and he came to get me."

_Oh great_, thought Shelby, and to hide her embarrassment she began walking again, putting a couple of extra feet between them. "Your dads must be furious with me."

"They certainly didn't seem happy with the situation."

"What did you tell them?" Shelby asked, slowing down so she could look Rachel in the eye. "Do they know about the tape?"

She hesitated before finally admitting, "No."

Shelby exhaled with relief. While she didn't want Rachel to lie to her fathers, she knew the tape, which wasn't a direct violation of their contract, was an underhanded move and decidedly rude.

"It felt too private, I guess," Rachel said. Shelby smiled to herself, knowing that Rachel regarded the recording as meaningfully as she had when she made it. Well, maybe not quite as much, considering she was on the verge of drunkenness when she recorded it and there was always a direct relationship between her alcohol intake and her emotional levels. "So I told them that I saw you at the school and just knew. That's the truth…to a point, anyway. I don't think they want me to see you anymore, though."

They had made it out to the parking lot, and there were only a couple dozen cars left in the large lot. Usually when Shelby left campus, there was less than half of that.

"I'm just going to presume the obvious then and say that they don't know you're here."

"I don't want to hurt their feelings," Rachel said uneasily, her eyes scanning the lot. "Which is yours?"

"The dark-red SUV over there in the faculty spaces. Where do they think you are?"

"They know I participate in a variety of clubs that can greatly occupy my time," Rachel replied matter-of-factly. "As long as I'm home by curfew they don't mind."

"They must trust you."

"They know I am not interested in anything that might impede my future," Rachel explained as they reached the car.

Shelby opened the passenger door for her daughter and waited for her to climb in, but when she stepped up a pale pink thing slipped out from under her cape and fell to the asphalt. She reached down to pick up the plush pig and peeked up at Rachel's exasperated expression. "Was this…_stapled_ on?"

"Ugh, that's been happening all day."

Shelby couldn't suppress a quiet laugh. She handed Rachel the toy and shut the car door, walking around to the other side of the car so she could get in herself. As she started the car and pulled out of the lot, Rachel pressed on the radio. The CD that had been playing on her ride over that morning was still in there, and Fleetwood Mac's "Go Your Own Way" began to play through the speakers.

"You can change that if you want," Shelby said, wanting Rachel to be comfortable. She wasn't sure what kind of music she listened to, though she assumed show tunes were a given. Maybe she left one of her Broadway soundtracks in the car…

"No, this is good," Rachel said, her eyes focused at everything outside of her passenger window. Shelby considered asking her if the air temperature was comfortable for her or if she needed sunglasses, but figured that might be overdoing it.

"_Loving you isn't the right thing to do. How can I ever change the things that I feel? If I could, maybe I'd give you my world…"_

Shelby gripped the steering wheel unnecessarily tight as she listened to Lindsey Buckingham's lyrics. She knew he had written them about Stevie Nicks, but she could relate to these lines a bit too well for comfort. She wondered if Rachel was thinking about the words like she was, and if so whether she had any idea how poignant they were for Shelby.

"…_You can go your own way (go your own way)…"_

She turned down the volume so she wouldn't continue to make parallels between her complicated relationship with her daughter and Fleetwood Mac's drama. Shelby didn't want Rachel to go her own way, though the annoying voice in the back of her head was continually reminding her that she was no good for the girl. Her greed for a family and for someone to love was overpowering her good judgment regarding her daughter's well-being. She tried to curb her betraying thoughts and focus anything else besides that maddening truth, like Vocal Adrenaline's next number (a Queen song) or the costume that was the reason for this discomfiting episode in the first place.

After a few minutes of quietness, she felt the need to say something, _anything_, so she went with the last thought. "I can't help but think that whatever the hell you're wearing reminds me of a Lady Gaga outfit I saw during my research," she mentioned as casually as she could, her tone hiding exactly how perceptive she truly was.

"Then my dads and I got something right with this silly thing," Rachel muttered, her hands playing with the foot of some random teddy bear or other that peaked out from underneath the blue cape she wore.

Shelby's lip quirked up as she watched Rachel fiddle with her outfit out of the corner of her vision and added nonchalantly, "What a coincidence we are both doing Gaga numbers."

Rachel stiffened in her seat. Turning quickly with an apologetic look on her face and her mouth open as though forming her excuse, it took her a moment to realize that Shelby was teasing her. Of course Shelby realized that New Directions copied her theatricality idea; it didn't take her long to figure that out. They smiled slightly, meeting each other's gaze quickly, before Shelby had to pull hers away in order to make the turn into her neighborhood.

Shelby's smile faded and she exhaled quietly, knowing it was best they didn't talk about Glee. It was the one thing they knew for sure they had in common but they were rivals. Any further discussion could lead to disclosure of important, competitive information. She was glad Rachel was staying quiet; she wasn't interested in the details of New Directions' routines, just as she didn't want them knowing hers. It was fair that way.

Still, she had agreed to help Rachel with her dress, so she persevered with the topic, "I think I'm going soft. That dress is starting to grow on me. Maybe we can actually make it work."

"Good," Rachel said, her lips curving upwards as she looked at her mother. Her face changed when Shelby turned into her driveway, her brown eyes transferred to the dark house in front of them and her body was so still Shelby wondered if she was breathing.

Shouldn't she be the only one who was nervous? She was about to bring the daughter she barely knew into her home. She hadn't had guests over for, what, months now? And she didn't expect any of this to happen this afternoon. Nevertheless, she bravely lead the way to the front door, her security light brightening at the movement, and put her keys in her door with shaky hands.

"Do you live here alone?" Rachel asked her quietly as they walked in to the empty house.

"Yes." She dropped her keys in their bowl and turned on the lights to the foyer and adjoining rooms while Rachel pulled off her coat. The room wasn't the only thing that brightened.

"Wow," Rachel said quietly, and let herself into Shelby's sitting room with wide eyes.

It had been a long time since she looked at her home from the perspective of someone who had never seen it before. If someone wasn't into music, she could imagine that they wouldn't find the den very relaxing, but considering Rachel's interests, Shelby was proud to allow her time to look around.

The centerpiece for the space was her beautiful grand piano, which she kept immaculate. Rachel treaded softly toward it and touched the keys lightly with her fingertips, admiring the quality of the instrument. Next to the piano were Shelby's other musical instruments, waiting in their cases for her attention: a cello, an English horn, and a covered vibraphone. There were others that she had learned to play over the years, but these were the ones she kept coming back to. One day she intended to add a harp to her collection, but considering how expensive and cumbersome they were, she was in no hurry.

Shelby's child drifted across the hardwood floor towards the sitting area by the front window that only received attention when Shelby decided she needed a different place to spread out her work. She had nearly forgotten about the photographs that she had displayed on the end tables and on the mantel above her neglected fireplace (using it was bad for the piano), and her stomach twisted up tightly when Rachel reached up to one of the picture frames and pulled it down to study it.

Shelby hung up the cape that lay forgotten on her arm and put down her attaché case before carefully crossing the room to look over Rachel's shoulder at the photo she was focused on.

"That's my family," Shelby said quietly as she gazed down at the portrait, and Rachel's head spun to look up at her, apparently startled. "My folks, Janet and David, and my younger sister Julie."

She was in high school when that picture was taken. Her parents always cared about appearing perfect. It wasn't very hard for their two children to play along, except when Shelby's headstrongness and ambitions contradicted the Corcorans' ideals.

"So those are my grandparents?" Rachel whispered, touching the glass above the twenty-year-old image with her petite fingers.

"You shouldn't think of them like that," Shelby said darkly, and pulled the frame from Rachel's grasp and put it back on its shelf. Rachel looked embarrassed as though she had done something wrong, and Shelby heaved a sigh. "They're barely parents. To me, anyway. I don't think you realize how lucky you are, Rachel. I bet your dads have opened a million doors for you throughout your life and probably have some impressive savings account set aside so they can make sure you can go to whatever school you want, right?" Rachel became impassive, and Shelby suspected she hit the nail right on the head. "I worked hard so I could get scholarships, and throughout college I waitressed and picked up gigs as a wedding singer just so I could get by. Because they didn't think that anything related to music or acting was sensible, my entire life was spent trying to do what I loved and struggling not to piss them off while I was at it."

"It must have been hard to practice."

"You have no idea," Shelby told her, her tone conveying her bitterness. "I stayed at school every day as long as my teachers would let me, playing my instruments or voice training. Going home was the lowlight of my day. One reason why I wanted to make it as an actress was so I never had to come back here."

"Then why did you?"

Shelby drew together her brows, unable to admit the truth: she came back to Lima because she wanted to be near her illegitimate daughter, even if it meant always watching from a distance.

"I ran out of cash," she said instead. "After college it didn't matter much anyway: Mom and Dad took all of their money and retired up near Lake Michigan, where they are a half-an-hour's drive from my sister and her perfect, traditional family in Chicago."

"Do they even know I exist?" Rachel asked, her forehead wrinkled and her eyes wide as she looked up at the taller woman.

Shelby breathed in a deep, steady breath through her nose, and her eye twitched as she tried to formulate a good answer. There was no good answer. "When I was pregnant with you, I had decided that if they ever came to visit me during those months, I would tell them everything. We talked on the phone on my birthday and the big Hallmark occasions like Thanksgiving, but I never saw them. Around the holidays, when they came down to visit my grandmother in the nursing home she resided in, I saw them for maybe an hour when they stopped by to exchange gifts. If they noticed how different I looked considering it had only been a couple of weeks since I had given birth, they didn't say anything."

Shelby never wanted to be like her folks. She wanted the chance to shower her children with love and opportunities, but life didn't work out like that. And since Rachel already had more than she needed with her two doting fathers, there was no room for her. She had always hated the fact that she had to be the very things that she despised about her family – absent and numb – in order for her only child to be happy.

But she didn't want pity. She was a capable woman that never needed anyone's reassurance or support, and she was able to find solace knowing she could provide her students some of the many things she was never able to give to Rachel. Many of those kids were just like she was growing up.

Her throat tightened painfully when she finally confessed to Rachel, "The truth is, very few people know about you. It was easier for me that way."

And just like that, those small moments of laughter that they shared in the last couple of hours perished, and the excruciating tension of the day before permeated the space between them once again. The hurt that filled Rachel's face was subtle but Shelby didn't miss it. She knew then that no matter how much she tried justifying her divulgence, Rachel would believe that she was something to be ashamed of. She was so sick of continually disappointing her daughter but it didn't seem as though that was going to change.

She didn't know how it was possible, but for a couple of minutes she had managed to forget about that ridiculous dress that Rachel had on. It was best they concentrated on that now rather than their relationship; goodness knows Shelby wasn't exactly on a roll with that topic. She determined that for the rest of the evening they ought to focus on easy things, like show-choir costumes.

"Do you have something to change into?"

"No," Rachel said, and Shelby must have made a face because Rachel shrugged and looked away. "We all wore our outfits to school in a show of solidarity. One of our group members was dress-coded because she dressed in Gothic attire. Apparently wearing all black is Satanic at our school or something. It's ridiculous."

Shelby glanced down at her pant-suit, which certainly lacked color, and felt a surge of appreciation for her boss for not being _that_ radical. Most of her entire wardrobe consisted of dark colors.

She had a thought. "What would you say about trying a different Lady Gaga outfit? I have an idea that will look fantastic and will help with your cause."

Rachel seemed intrigued and answered with a mischievous look, "What do you have in mind?"

Shelby grinned. "Something black."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Maybe it's because I've spent the last three weeks in Shelby's head, but I wonder if I'm the only person who isn't harshly judging her for her treatment of Rachel. I guess maybe I'm preaching to the choir right now though. Also, I just want to say I totally called it about her adopting Beth! The moment I finished watching Theatricality I ran up to my sister's room, told her my theory and said to her, "Just wait, I'm going to be right!" Well, my sister's already heard it a bunch and no one else I know cares, so I hope you don't mind if I say really quickly, "I WAS SO RIGHT!" God, this is a great feeling. Now, back to the story. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter; I think it was one of the most important because it looked a little deeper at Shelby, and this chapter does as well to a lesser degree. If you ever feel it is necessary, you may send her virtual hugs via the review link at the bottom of this page. I also like virtual hugs. Just sayin'.**

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One might never know it by looking at Shelby Corcoran, but she never made her bed. It was a habit she had acquired as soon as she started living on her own. Whenever she washed the linens or knew someone was visiting, sure, she would make it look presentable, but otherwise she left it the way she climbed out of it every morning. Needless to say, she was a bit self-conscious when Rachel followed her into her bedroom.

"I'm sorry it's a mess, I didn't expect anyone over," she said, kicking the pajamas left on her floor that morning in the direction of her hamper.

"No, it's okay. It's more real this way," Rachel said. She fingered with some of Shelby's jewelry in the box on the vanity while the latter fished out some workout clothes for her to wear.

"Whatever I have might be a little long on you, but I'm sure they'll fit…" Shelby muttered, mostly to herself, as she pushed things aside in a dresser drawer. She found an old pair of draw-string pants and a t-shirt and was about to hand them to Rachel when she saw the girl closely inspecting a heart-shaped pendant.

"Have you ever been in love?" Rachel asked wistfully, her sad eyes focused on the tiny, glittering diamonds set into the gold heart.

She didn't answer immediately. It was a surprising question; though this was one of the many topics that she had assumed took place between a mother and a daughter, she had given up on having any more expectations in view of how everything else had gone so far. After a couple of beats Rachel turned her attention to Shelby's unreadable face, where it remained focused, awaiting a response.

"Once," she finally said, straightforward as usual. She had no reason to lie about it. "Are you? Is that why you're asking?" If so, she was going to have to sit down and have a talk with Jesse.

"I don't know," Rachel replied truthfully, putting the necklace back in the box. "How would I know for sure? What is it like to really be in love, not to just feel attraction or infatuation?"

"It is miserable." Shelby watched Rachel's brow furrow in uncertainty and noticed it crinkled exactly how her own did. She frowned as she continued. "It's agonizing and staggering and wonderful all at once. It's when you feel so strongly for someone that without them life ceases to exist and when you're around them your heart goes a mile a minute. No one in the world can make you angrier or happier than that one person."

"Who was he?" Rachel asked carefully, and over her small form Shelby could see the contents of her open jewelry case and the glint of an engagement ring. She sighed forlornly, having no desire to disclose this part of her past but willing to do so in order to connect with her daughter.

"Try these on," Shelby told her first, handing her the articles of clothing that had been folded over her arm. She turned around, allowing Rachel to change out of what she imagined was an uncomfortable outfit and giving herself a chance to prepare a response. It was easier to share her deep secrets when she didn't have to look anyone in the eye.

"His name was Scott," she said, picking at the sleeve of her coat. She may as well remove it altogether, she decided, and pulled it off before tossing it aimlessly into her walk-in closet and kicking her heels in after it. "We had been together for nearly four years. I had met him through a mutual friend and we hit it off right away. He loved music and he loved me."

"Why did it end?"

"Sometimes love isn't enough," Shelby said, grimacing in remembrance. "We were at different places in our lives and we knew it. By the end we stayed together because we simply couldn't leave. It was extremely unhealthy."

What Shelby was neglecting to mention was that Scott wanted children and she, of course, couldn't have them. They had been together through her health crises, and he stayed by her side despite knowing the consequences of necessary treatments and surgery. For a time Shelby believed that they would persevere, but in the end the fact that she couldn't have his kids was a deal-breaker for him. The day that he informed her he had found someone else to marry was the day she kicked him out and never looked back.

She had a few guys come and go in the couple years after that but it was never serious. Then, when she and Vocal Adrenaline started to figure things out, she chose to focus on that rather than more unfulfilling romantic relationships. In the last three years, she satisfied her lust by making out with gay men and going home from time to time with the straight ones she would encounter. It was pretty pathetic. Not the making out – the gay guys tended to know what they were doing – but rather her worthless personal life.

She assumed she had given Rachel enough time to change, and when she turned around she found herself gaping at the young lady in front of her. Her developed form was dressed in Shelby's well-worn clothing, she had pulled out her hair bands and was running her fingers through the dark tresses that were so similar to her mother's, and when the girl's dark eyes met her own, the older woman was completely dumbfounded: Rachel really did look just like her.

She wasn't feeling elation or pride at this, however, at least not as much as she would have anticipated. Now that Rachel was wearing regular clothes and her dark waves weren't pulled back into a childish hairstyle, Shelby was back to thinking about how mature the girl seemed. She reminded Shelby of herself, as she was now; she wasn't seeing the child she had always wanted. It was a harsh reminder that she was years too late to be a mother to Rachel.

"Is it okay that I ask you these things?" Rachel asked hesitantly, her arms wrapping around herself self-consciously in reaction to Shelby's inscrutable gaze. "There's some stuff that I just don't feel comfortable asking my dads about."

Shelby was scared of this. She yearned for it so much, yet she had no idea how to handle it. Longing and constant rumination were no match for experience for situations like this, of which she had none.

She had an aversion to opening up unless she felt it was necessary, but when prompted she would never lie. She had no regrets in her life, other than the shamefully large one that was right in front of her: the disconnection between herself and her daughter. Unfortunately for them both, it was in that regret that she had the most trouble expressing herself…excluding the occasions when she yielded to too much wine.

Maybe it was too late for them to have their slow-motion moment. Maybe their relationship wouldn't even work out. But if she was going to spend this one night with her daughter, she wasn't going to allow herself any more regrets. Shelby's throat constricted, and, unable to articulate an answer, she nodded.

Rachel's mouth curved into a grateful smile, and Shelby's eyes glinted down at her. She angled her head towards the bedroom door and said, "Come on. I'll let you look at the Gaga outfit I have in mind while I pull out the material and my sewing machine."

As they walked down the hallway together towards Shelby's study, she was careful not to touch Rachel. Her continual restraint wasn't so much of a preference as it was a developed tendency from years of solitude; aside from that, she did not know the girl well enough nor merit the right to touch her even affectionately. But she cared so much, and though it was so hard to show that, she was going to try.

"Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat if you want," she asked. The more time she wasted the less likely they'd be able to finish the costume, but frankly she didn't care. This mattered so much more. She wanted to try and take care of her daughter.

"Wow, I have a parent who can cook," Rachel said with astonishment, and Shelby smiled lightly. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine."

"If you're sure…"

"Yes. I'm a bit of a picky eater anyway. I'm a vegan."

"You're _what_? Well, that's not genetic…"

She may have been kidding, but Shelby was perturbed. Rachel's dads hadn't been vegetarians, let alone vegans when Shelby knew them 16 years ago and unless they made the big leap sometime in Rachel's childhood, she made the decision herself to change to this lifestyle. And veganism was a big choice that an adult makes, not a child.

What had Shelby been doing in her life when this occurred? Had she been too busy thinking about winning trophies for Vocal Adrenaline and the shelves in her study? What about when Rachel reached the age when it probably wouldn't have been appropriate for one of her parents to sing her to sleep anymore? It was something Shelby had always dreamed of doing: tucking her daughter in to bed and singing her a sweet lullaby. She had probably been sitting by herself in her home, watching The Wizard of Oz with the remote in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. And when her daughter began menstruating for the first time and thinking about all of the overwhelming changes her body was making, was Shelby sitting at a bar with an ordinary iced tea, craving alcohol and wallowing in self-pity?

There was little left for her to do. Apparently, she could help with things that required domestic skills that her dads obviously did not possess, and once in a while she could answer questions about sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll that Rachel was too apprehensive to ask her sensitive fathers. But beyond that, what could she give to her little girl?

A distraction from her depressing thoughts came in the form of Rachel's true personality beginning to show through. When Rachel stepped into Shelby's study for the first time and saw the countless awards, plaques and trophies decorating the room, she was not shocked, but rather stated bluntly that she expected nothing less of the woman who was her mother. She wasn't joking. It was unfortunate for Shelby's weary conscience that she loved her girl even more because of this.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I get giddy about reviews. Is that normal? Every time I get on the computer now the first thing I do is check to see if any of you lovely readers left me a note. My favorite time to check is first thing in the morning, since a third of a day goes by in which people could read and possibly leave reviews. I hope you like this, and I hope tomorrow morning will be good! :D **

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Shelby Corcoran was many things: she was beautiful, intelligent, hard-working, determined, independent, and extremely talented. To say that she was a coward was generally inaccurate, though there were exceptions to this. She still flinched under her mother's vicious "Do it or else" glare, because the "or else" tended to be quite unpleasant. Next, she hated horses and refused to go near them; when she was six years old, her parents took her and her sister out to a ranch and practically pushed her to pet the ancient, cranky horse. She still had a faint scar on her arm from where the thing bit her.

Finally, her greatest fear came in the form of two flaming men who were some of the nicest guys she had ever met. She hated to be near them and to look them in the eye because of the absurd amount of power they had over her. Each one of them had a fantastic grip on her heartstrings, and if she wasn't careful they could potentially yank and fling her around like Crinkles the Horse did.

That was the primary reason Shelby was quiet when she took Rachel home that night. She wasn't sure if she should walk her daughter up to the door and deal with her dads or if she should hide in her car and accept that she was a chicken. Neither seemed very desirable. Since Rachel technically found her it wasn't wrong for them to hang out, but she didn't think the Berrys would see it like that. She figured they would worry about their little girl spending time with the new, competing, and 100-percent verifiable parent and would become extremely defensive. She doubted she would be invited in for coffee that evening to catch up, even though the three of them had gotten along well during the pregnancy.

She wondered if Rachel would tell them about her evening. It had been pretty good all in all; once they had actually gotten started with the costume it went quick. Shelby was clever enough with costume design and improvisation that the actual dress was cut and sewn in a couple of hours, with only a few small things left over to touch up. During that time, she allowed Rachel to fill in much about her life that Shelby hadn't been able to gather from where she had watched from afar, and the girl needed little prompting—she could talk! Shelby had her fetching them constant supplies of tea to keep them caffeinated, and after a few cups Rachel was difficult to shut up. Shelby felt bad encouraging her to continue getting refills, knowing that her dads would have another reason to dislike her if Rachel's hyperactivity didn't wear off by the time she went home, but another thing Shelby was from time to time was selfish.

But the more Shelby learned about her throughout the night, the more secure she was in realizing Rachel's dads had nothing to be concerned about. She absolutely adored them and it was clear they spoiled her rotten. It was also exceedingly apparent that she was no little girl anymore, as Shelby had noticed before; there was a point in the evening in which Rachel explained her thoughts about sex and her indecision regarding it, and Shelby had to leave the room after nearly choking to death on her hot tea. It was the very first day of her life that she spent significantly with her daughter, and needless to say she wasn't prepared to talk about sex just yet. She was relieved when Rachel's long wind carried her through to another subject after the older woman's near-death experience.

Those were the secondary reasons she was so silent on the drive.

The caffeine had almost completely worked its way through Rachel's tiny system by the time they were heading to her home, meaning that she was coherent enough at this point to finally notice Shelby's growing quietness. (Before, she had been too chatty to realize that Shelby hardly spoke, particularly when she had been concentrating on the costume.) Rachel, possibly unnerved by her company's muteness, became timid again, and Shelby was pissed at herself for causing them to back-step in their relationship once again. Still, there was a light in Rachel's eyes that hadn't been there that afternoon, and noticing that had made it worth it for Shelby.

"Do you want me to walk you up?" Shelby asked as she put her truck in park, turning in her seat to look Rachel in the eye. She used her training as a thespian to hide her dread at the idea of seeing the dads. As it was, she kept glancing out of the corner of her eyes at the dim windows of the house, waiting for an angry silhouette to appear in them like a psycho in a horror movie.

"No, I think I'll be okay," Rachel said with a sweet smile, and hugged the large trash bag that held her ugly doll dress, cape and other oddities to her body, which was still clothed in the running clothes Shelby had given her. She wasn't rushing out of the car. "So will I see you tomorrow?"

"I'll finish your costume tonight and drop it off at McKinley in the afternoon. You've got all the makeup I gave you, and the gloves? The stockings?"

"Yes, yes and yes," Rachel said with a roll of her eyes. It was the most motherly Shelby had felt in her entire life. Rachel began climbing of the car. "Thanks…for everything."

Shelby's smile felt more like a frown; it certainly didn't reach her eyes. Rachel was about to close the door when Shelby stopped her suddenly, surprising herself as much as the teenager.

"This can't be an all-the-time thing." The words fell out of her before she could stop them, and her eyelids fell closed as she took a steadying breath. Rachel was still and clearly confused where she stood across the vehicle. Shelby's words faltered, and under the pressure she gave a half-true excuse. "I-I mean, your dads wouldn't appreciate it." Shelby felt guilty about putting the blame on the Berry men, especially when her reasoning was because of her personal issues and emotions, but she couldn't bring herself to be forthright.

"I understand." She nodded, undoubtedly noticing Shelby's strange tone, but smiled anyway. "Good night…" She seemed ready to tack "Mom" to the end but thankfully stopped herself, perhaps realizing as Shelby did that it was inappropriate and undeserved.

Shelby's dark eyes followed Rachel all the way up the path to the front door and into the home. She partly wished she had braved the situation and invited herself in; she would love to finally step foot in that house and see what Rachel's life was like. She supposed she wouldn't like what she would see, however; the reality of the situation was clear enough without seeing the evidence against her first hand.

Once she was satisfied that Rachel was safe and secure in her house, Shelby pulled the transmission into drive but didn't take her foot off of the brake, unable to leave just yet. She looked up at Rachel's bedroom window, the light of which turned on as she watched it, and smiled when she saw the teenager fill the space and wave down to her. She held up her hand in acknowledgment, her fingers curling down as she tore her eyes away out of discomfiture. How many times had she stared up at that window from the street, wanting nothing more than to have her daughter look back? She didn't feel quite the way she had expected to.

She finally released the brake pedal and accelerated away, her mind bustling with thoughts. If she had the time, she would have just driven aimlessly for a while to sort out the muddle in her mind, but she was more responsible than that. She had to run to the mall before it closed and find sunglasses to match the costume, then run home and attach the checkered decorative piece to the front that she hadn't gotten to yet. Not to mention that, since she was a perfectionist, she was going to look at every seam again to make sure she didn't miss anything. It was going to be another couple of hours before she could consider the project finished.

When she arrived back at her house, Shelby was just unbuckling her seatbelt when she saw a strange color in the shadows in front of the passenger seat. She reached down and realized it was one of the stuffed animals from Rachel's dress—a little blue elephant. She reached forward and wrapped her fingers around the plush toy, bringing it to her chest and holding it there as though hugging it.

Perhaps once Rachel regarded this stuffed animal as special, but she had seemingly reached the point in which the toy had lost its favor with her and was better off being forcibly stapled on a dress rather than held. How could she have been absent for so long?

She sighed, and after exiting and locking her car Shelby walked into her house, dropped her keys in the bowl, and felt a little different about it. She couldn't tell if she were happier about standing in the dark entryway – the one her daughter had stood in less than four hours before – or much sadder. She wanted more out of this house; she craved for it to be more of a home than she ever had before. It would never be one as long as she was alone.

She dropped her bag into her study, which was otherwise ignored for the rest of the evening, went to her bedroom to change and then weaved her way through to her living room – Rachel had chosen to work in there after discovering Shelby's extremely impressive CD collection – so she could finish the dress. It took her a half an hour to properly secure the frontal adornment because she kept worrying that the cardboard bit would end up sticking uncomfortably into Rachel's armpit, and that wasn't what Shelby Corcoran wanted her creation to be remembered for. When she decided it was finished, she looked at the mannequin with satisfaction, knowing that she had done one hell of a job in such a short amount of time.

It was late and she was tired. She left all of her sewing stuff strewn around her living room to be dealt with later and went to turn in. She climbed into her messy bed and reached to turn off her lamp, but halted when she saw the small light-blue elephant on the bedside table. She wasn't sure how long she stared at it; it wasn't the same as having a photograph of Rachel, but finally Shelby Corcoran had something to remind her of her daughter around her home, even if it was bittersweet.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for the nice reviews everyone! They've been driving me towards the finish line. I've been working on this diligently the last couple days, and my family is starting to notice. They've made more than one comment about how I'm choosing to spend time at home and not trying to avoid the house. I think they're getting suspicious. Anyway, here's a little (and I mean little, unfortunately) something to get you by, but I promise the chapter after this is much more dense, in all the meanings of that word. Except for the "stupid" meaning.**

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Shelby didn't sleep very well. It had taken her hours to finally drift off and then she woke up an hour before her alarm was supposed to go off. Taking a three-mile run in the morning to clear her mind and energize her for the day didn't work, and it had a lot to do with the costume that she packed up after she was home and showered, as well as the person she was bringing it to.

Her classes were fine, but Shelby got the impression her students were still hissing about her personal life, trying to piece together the puzzle and waiting for her to drop some details. She was very professional, however, so she left them all quite disappointed. And, because she found satisfaction in the act, she smiled at them all, knowing that she was mystifying them just as much as she had the teachers the morning before.

When her last class was finishing, she caught a hold of one of the members of Vocal Adrenaline that was in there and told him to make sure everyone did their stretches and vocal warm-ups since she was going to be a few minutes late. She ran to her car, knowing she only had less than an hour before her absence from practice was unacceptable by her own standards as well as the students, their parents and Principal Lancaster: it was typically frowned upon to leave students unsupervised.

She had texted Rachel at her lunch and told her that she would meet her in the school's front office about 10 minutes after McKinley let out; McKinley's last class finished about 20 minutes after Carmel's did so it worked out in Shelby's favor. Near-criminal speeding allowed her to make great time, and she grabbed everything from the passenger seat and jogged up to the office.

Rachel was waiting inside in a chair, her hands folded up on her skirted lap and one of her penny loafers tapping in the air. When Shelby burst through the door, she leaped out of her seat beaming while the receptionist scowled at them.

"You're here!"

"Of course I am. I got here as fast as I could." Shelby handed Rachel the garment bag she carried, plus a small plastic shopping bag. "What do you think of these?"

Rachel reached into the shopping bag and pulled out the large sunglasses, and somehow her smile widened. "Oh, I love them!"

"You said you have shoes to match?"

"The ones from my cousin's bat mitzvah? Yes, they're in my locker."

"Good," Shelby said, her lips forming a tight smile. It became quiet, and she didn't know what else to say. "Well…I've got to run. I'm going to be late for Glee."

"Me too," Rachel replied with a modest chuckle. Shelby's brow furrowed as she thought about how much her baby was like her and how it was entirely coincidental. She wished she didn't find that thought so distressing.

Neither of them moved for a few seconds, but rather stared at each other in hesitation. Finally, Shelby gave her a parting nod and took off towards the exit without another word, all the while ignoring the questioning look the receptionist was giving them because of their odd behavior. She didn't need that lady's judgment; she was plenty capable of that by herself.

By the time she returned to Carmel High, Vocal Adrenaline was indeed vocally and physically limber, and the girls wasted no time complaining about how their metal brassieres were conducting heat from the powerful follow-spots. She resisted the temptation to snap at them to quit whining and simply turned the lights of the auditorium down so they would be more comfortable. She was too nice sometimes.

She knew they needed to work on the dance more, so she instructed them to run through it a few more times to work out the kinks, but she was becoming quite sick at watching the same moves over and over. Her usual tolerance was waning drastically, and despite the fact she arrived late she couldn't wait for practice to be over. Neither could her students, she deducted, as she watched many of them collapse exaggeratedly from exhaustion when she told them to hit the showers.

Shelby assumed her poor attitude had something to do with the fact that she had already decided that they wouldn't use the Lady Gaga number at Regionals in case New Directions picked theirs, making their continued practicing of it virtually pointless. But she couldn't tell her kids that she had been wasting their time for nothing, and it was good for them to continue expressing themselves theatrically, so she chose to let them to finish the assignment.

At the conclusion of rehearsal, the glass of water on the table that she rarely gave any conscious thought to caught her eye as she put her papers into her bag. She vaguely wondered if she would ever look at a glass the same way ever again or if she was destined to spend the rest of her life reminded of all the mistakes she had made and all of the things she would never share with her daughter. Now that she knew that Rachel's dads brought her water every time she was sad, would she be sad every time she had a glass of her own?

After she arrived home that evening, she picked up her cello for the first time in weeks. She thought it would help her express her melancholy and she played until her fingers felt raw. Then she ordered Chinese food, picked at the spread in silence, and put the excessive leftovers in the fridge where they remained a daunting task to be handled throughout the rest of the week. She stared at the paper cartons for a moment before shutting the door with a sigh, wishing that for once she could have had company to share it all with, and a fleeting, hopeful thought crossed her mind as she wondered whether her favorite Chinese place had any vegan dishes.

When she went to bed that night, her hazel eyes remained fixed on the blue elephant next to her bed until they finally closed from utter emotional and physical exhaustion.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay everyone, I need to bring out the virtual hugs again for this one. I certainly needed one after I wrote it, and goodness knows Shelby needs as many as she can get. Keep an eye out for Brenda Castle!**

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Unlike the morning before, when waking up was easy because she barely fell asleep in the first place, Thursday morning turned into one that involved her contemplating causing the alarm clock physical harm. Shelby had a great deal of monotony over the last few years and usually the simple habit of waking up was enough to get her out of bed and going for the day, but every now and then she stared at the ceiling for minutes at a time, listening to the idiotic radio disc jockeys and considered calling in sick. It was one of those days but as usual, she eventually rolled out of bed and got ready for work. She had too many people depending on her to flake out on them so she never did.

She felt better after a hot shower. It wasn't unusual for her to wander around her room or even into the hallway as she brushed her teeth, and it was a good thing she had that morning for she heard the faint beep of her phone from down the way. Her bare feet carried her to her study and with a sigh and an upward roll of her eyes she realized she had left her cell phone in her bag overnight. She hated it when she did that. She pulled it out of a pocket and saw she had three new voicemails and a quarter battery-life left.

Who had called? The toothbrush hung limply from her lips as she used both hands to navigate her Blackberry. She checked the call log as she moseyed back towards her bedroom and her heart thudded when she saw she had two missed calls last night from Rachel and one this morning from Will Schuester. She was concerned about the former more-so than the latter: Why did Rachel call her twice? Was she all right? Did the costume go over well? Was she made fun of for it? Shelby remembered back in her high-school days when she was pelted with spit-wads whenever she entered the school in her drama costumes or her choir outfits (they were terribly old-fashioned, like they were going for English tea or something and not dancing and singing to contemporary pop hits), and her stomach clenched as she blamed herself for bullying on Rachel that might not have occurred at all. Shelby scolded herself for foolishly forgetting about her phone; her inability to answer her daughter's phone calls was just another bullet on the enormously long list of missteps she had made with the girl.

She paused her slow movements as she passed her guestroom. The hand that held her phone fell to her side while the other resumed the brushing of her teeth, but its movements were slow and pensive as she peered through the dark doorway. It could have been because she had just been thinking about Rachel, or maybe it had been a coincidence, but she stepped in and flicked the switch.

Some part of her had always thought about Rachel when she looked at her guest bedroom, as though if it were ever possible for her to meet and know her daughter, that room could be hers. Suddenly it _was_ possible, yet Shelby had a bad feeling about it all. It was just hard to imagine that Rachel's dads would ever be cool with their little girl staying the night over at her surrogate mother's home so they could have time to bond.

It was scantily decorated; she left it simple and livable so it would be tolerable for her family or friends if they visited while still a blank slate for the daughter she had never known to make her own. Shelby tried to be hopeful that it would finally happen, but that unpleasant feeling in her gut convinced her to put it out of her mind.

She turned off the light and returned to her own room. She plugged in her cell on its charger and dialed the voicemail, setting it to speakerphone so she could finish with her teeth in the adjoining bathroom.

"_You have three new messages. New message…"_

"Hi M-…Um, it's Rachel. I was just calling to say thank you again for your help. My friends all love my costume, and Mercedes keeps asking me where I got the sunglasses. I've been telling her it's a secret, but honestly I have no clue where you found them, so I guess I'll keep playing coy. The dress is great. It's really nice to be able to sit down in costume again without some pellet-filled creature going up my—"

"_End of message. New message…"_

"Hi, it's me again. Sorry about that, I have this habit of talking too much at times. I can only assume that is a genetic gift from my fathers. Not that you're inarticulate! You have a remarkable brain-mouth filter, is what I mean. Never mind. I-I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate your help, and I hope we can spend time together again soon. Maybe we can see about your cooking like you offered or go out to Breadstix and ta—"

"_End of message. New message…"_

"Hey Shelby, it's Will…Will Schuester. Look, uh…we need to talk about some things. Face to face. If you can, please try and drop by my office at McKinley sometime today. If that doesn't work, just give me a call back and we'll figure something out."

"_End of message. There are no more messages. You are at the main menu. Press—"_

Shelby clicked off the call and the room fell quiet again. She had finished her dental routine a minute before and had since been standing over the phone with her arms crossed in front of her, listening to the recordings. She had been smiling during the first two, especially when she realized that Rachel must have given up after the second botched message, but the smile had vanished upon hearing Will Schuester's voice. If Rachel had mentioned where the costume had come from to her Glee friends, then Will probably overheard and was calling out of concern for the wellbeing of his club. She recalled how he had boldly accused her of trying to spy on New Directions and with Regionals just around the corner she understood his worry.

She thought about trying to stop by between her classes, but even with reduced travel time between the two campuses because she wouldn't be fighting rush-hour traffic, their meeting would be short. Shelby decided that since she was only going to be introducing their vocal arrangements that afternoon in Glee, she could hand out the sheet music and send them home to learn it. It wouldn't have been the first time she had taken that approach; she liked them to be fluent enough to read and understand sheet music, and sometimes that involved letting them figure it out for themselves. Since it was nearly the end of the school year even the freshmen knew what they were doing, so by tomorrow everyone would have a basic idea of how the complicated Gaga number would go. She just crossed her fingers she wouldn't interrupt McKinley's Glee rehearsal if she stopped by after hours, making her trip there in vain. She had no interest in spying on them, though she would have difficulty objecting to watching Rachel sing again.

Forty minutes after classes let out at Carmel, Shelby Corcoran made her way through the respectably clean halls of McKinley High School. Classes had ended there a little more than a quarter-hour before; a few kids still hovered and socialized in the hallways and several uniformed teenagers went off to their various after-school sports and clubs. Down the way was what Shelby could assume was a faculty member holding an outdated badminton racket, and she carefully approached with a polite smile gracing her face.

"Excuse me, I have a meeting with Will Schuester—"

"Get in line, honey," sniggered the brunette with a snort. Now that she was near the woman, it was hard to miss her instability or her dilated pupils. She recently huffed something, and by the smell of her it was probably rubber cement. Shelby took a step back.

"Do you know where I might find his office?"

"Sure, darlin', let me show you the way," she said, and Shelby stiffened when the intoxicated woman linked arms with her and forced her down the hall. "He's down the Es-pan-yeol-a wing, which in my opinion is so _hot_." She snorted again, and Shelby hypothesized that was a result of hitting too many hard drugs. She let the nutty lady drag her down the hall just the same until the many flyers on the wall included those for several language clubs.

"Oh Schuuuuue!" the lady sang, pulling Shelby's reluctant form in a doorway with her so they were far too close for comfort. She was never more relieved to see a competing Glee coach in her life, and Will stood in his seat with his mouth slightly open at the sight of them. "Why didn't you tell me you were taking appointments? I would have been first on your list."

"Uh," Will said, his face flinching noticeably to the flirty wink the woman sent his way. When she fearlessly licked her lips, he coughed, thanked her for coming by and pulled Shelby by the hand into his office before lunging forward to close the door on the other woman. They both heard a clear, "Call me!" before it snapped shut. Shelby smirked in amusement when he banged his head on the wood.

"You good?" she asked him, her thumbs hooking in her pockets. It looked like he had a long day. That, or he was preparing to blame someone for sabotaging his cherished glee club. One or the other.

"Yeah," he sighed, and took the two long steps back to his side of the desk in his tiny office. She looked around and found the Spanish theme very cute. She gestured to his purple armadillo and quipped, "Que interesante."

"Gracias. Bienvenidos a mi oficina," he said with sweeping wave of his arm as he dropped back in his chair. Though she had been turned on a bit when he smoothly welcomed her to his office, it was a good thing for Shelby's extremely rusty Spanish that was where it stopped. She sat down in the seat across from him, her hands placed on her lap, and judged from Will's expression he wasn't interested in flirting with her today any more than he had been interested in flirting with the astronaut that had been her escort to his office. She was glad for that, because while she still thought he was completely adorable, this was a business meeting.

"I know why you called, and don't worry about it. My reconnection with Rachel is not some kind of plot to mess with you guys before Regionals."

He shook his head and said glumly, "I'm not worried about Regionals."

She stared at him in confusion. Only weeks before when she first met him, she had actually been surprised when he approached her and insinuated that she was spying on his club. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind when she asked Jesse to get close to her daughter, and when she replied a simple "Noted" to Will Schuester, she had, in actuality, made a mental note of it. Now that _wasn't_ the concern?

"It's Rachel," he said meaningfully. "She's special. She's got all the best of you: she's strong-willed, dramatic, wildly talented."

Wildly talented, huh? That was either a really good guess or he had Googled her. Despite her strong objections, her friends from her college years posted more than one video of her on YouTube belting herself silly: from dancing absolutely sloshed between transvestites at gay bars on karaoke nights and not missing a note, to a couple of leaked tapes of her performing at weddings. As cranky as she was at her college pals, she could hardly be ashamed considering her natural talent, though there were some exceptions. She really, really hoped he didn't stumble across the recording of the 1990 bar mitzvah that involved her sporting a feminine but still very unsightly Jew-fro.

She had forgotten what a thrill it was to receive such genuine compliments. Usually, she was described with words such as "ambitious," "clever," and "assertive" that had as many negative connotations as they did positive ones. It didn't hurt her self-esteem to hear that her daughter inherited what she, and apparently Will Schuester, regarded as some of her better qualities. So she smiled, delighted, and wittily said, "Go on…"

"But she's not hard like you."

Shelby's face fell, and a familiar ache of self-loathing filled her gut, knowing that "hard" was one of those descriptive words that she despised. "Hard" as easily meant "cold," "difficult," "cruel," and "unfeeling" as it did "tough" or "thick-skinned."

"She's fragile, over-emotional. And she's clearly convinced herself that you are as committed to this reunion as she is, and I don't think you are. You're not prepared to have a teenage daughter…are you?"

Shelby felt completely transparent. She had been sitting in front of this man for 30 seconds and he already had seen what was inside of her dark, lonely heart. It wasn't as if she had told anyone – as if she had anyone to tell of these things to – but Will said with no holds barred what she knew in her mind to be true. She wasn't ready for a teenage daughter, and she wasn't even sure whether she wanted one. She admired and adored Rachel but she would never be content standing to the side uselessly and watching her girl live a happy life with her devoted daddies. It hurt her too much.

She tried to smile it off, but the artificial look faded as quickly as it appeared and she looked away. She could easily play off his concern, tell him everything was fine and that _she_ was fine, but she was not so deceitful. She wasn't even able to lie and convince herself that she could brush aside 16 years of longing and move on from this.

"I can't have any more kids," she admitted finally before she changed her mind, and she made direct eye contact with him to emphasize the significance of her confession. She didn't falter. She must have seemed as though she shared the truth often while in actuality she couldn't remember the last time she had told anyone, barring her compulsory admission to Principle Lancaster a couple days before. Her gaze fell; it was hard to think back to that difficult time in her life when everything was falling apart, but it was necessary so she continued, "There were issues a few years back, then some surgery, and that's that."

It was hard to see his face so full of pity, but she forced herself to and told him with a spark of strength that she no longer had, "I really wanted a daughter." She paused, her words failing her as she looked at Will, a man she had no choice but to consider a good friend at this point. She hoped he understood that she was not heartless and _hard _as everyone thought. She felt so weak inside. "That's why it was so important for me to make that bond with her." Out loud, it sounded as selfish as it was: Where in her explanation was any interest in Rachel as a person or her wants? She wasn't ignorant to that. "But you're right." She shook her head, the hatred for herself deep and unwavering, and she acknowledged her pathetic wistfulness. "I wanted my baby back. Rachel's an adult now; she doesn't need me."

She had said it—the worst of it was out. Greed was a terrible thing and she had not been immune to it. She looked straight at Will, waiting for his condemnation. There was nothing he could say to her that she hadn't already punished herself relentlessly for since meeting Rachel.

"Shelby…I can't tell you what to do," he began, and if her chest wasn't hurting so painfully from dealing with an overflow of repressed emotions, she might have laughed at the quirk of fate. Wasn't it just a short time ago the roles had been reversed and Shelby had been counseling him on how he should live his life? "But if you really love her, you _have_ to tell her what you just told me."

She knew he was indisputably correct, and it killed her. She was so sick of continually letting down her daughter, and despite the girl's intelligence, Shelby knew that Rachel wouldn't be able to truly empathize with her mother's struggles. As Will had told her, Rachel was fragile. Shelby remembered her daughter's heartbreak when she had admitted to her that she kept her existence a shameful secret, how wretched of a human being she felt afterward, and how that little detail was the very tip of the iceberg that was Shelby Corcoran's life. Certainly the idea of Rachel understanding everything was absurd, but even more so was suggestion that she try explaining it all.

Without doubt, it would be a very long story. It would start with the moment Shelby knew for sure she was pregnant and how alien she felt in the body that was growing someone else's child. Then, as that little fetus began morphing into a human, Shelby's feelings also began to change until they were totally out of control and out of line. She wanted Rachel for herself, damning the generous men and their contract, but even her emotional attachment to the baby she had stupidly begun to think was hers wasn't enough to override her sense of charity and resoluteness. She had made a decision and she was going to stick with it; she just had no idea that decision would screw up her life so badly.

Was there a way for her to tell Rachel about her infertility without the girl believing that their quasi-relationship was just filler for what Shelby could not have? The only truth to that was that Shelby _did_ want a daughter and the fact that she couldn't give birth to one of her own was simply strong motivation to finally do something she had always wanted to do: know the little girl she had remorsefully given away.

Her mind returned to that fateful tape that she had Jesse give to Rachel. _"Once she hears it, she won't be able to sleep until she finds me."_ It was with mad desperation she made the tape, and she was so rundown from years of loneliness that she was willing to bring her own child down to her level in order to find some peace for herself. There was nothing acceptable about that. Shelby earnestly wanted to be a part of Rachel's life but that wasn't enough to justify her poor decisions, and it wasn't enough to make a place materialize in her daughter's world for her to step into.

"I should go," she said quietly, but didn't get up immediately. While she refused to meet Will's eyes again, she took solace in his presence and his kindness. At last, she stood and reached for the door but she felt Will's hand gently grasp her forearm, preventing her from leaving just yet. With a deep breath she turned to look at him.

"Will you be okay?" he asked, in the same subdued tone he had used before when he advised her about Rachel. It wasn't fair that this man knew her own daughter better than she did. It wasn't fair.

Her lip curled into a bitter smile and she pulled her arm away from him. "Yeah," she said untruthfully, knowing but not caring that he could see right through that. She was _hard_, as he had already bluntly pointed out; she may have felt like shit at that moment but they both knew she would survive.

She was almost out the door when she turned her head to stare right at him, a memory resurfacing in her mind. "Remember the day we met, and I told you that I had lied to you, that I did know who you were?"

"Yes."

"There was something else I hadn't been honest about that day. Vocal Adrenaline isn't the only thing I constantly think about."

With that and a shuddering breath, Shelby left, shutting the office door behind her. She leaned a palm against the wall outside of his office in a feeble attempt to collect herself, her other hand resting on her aching, wombless abdomen. She knew that Will Schuester wouldn't try to follow her out to console her or anything uselessly sweet like that; she had spent her youth sulking in corners after dramatic exits, wishing that someone cared enough about her to go after her, but that wasn't how the real world worked. Life wasn't a movie—there were no perfect moments and there was no happy ending.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I keep rereading them because they make me so happy. Perhaps that is silly, but I don't care. This update only has one spoken word in it, but I think it perfectly summarizes Shelby's feelings. Don't skip ahead, you'll ruin it.**

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That old expression, "Hindsight is 20/20," annoyed Shelby very much. It was one of those overly repeated clichés that bothered her like water bothers a cat because she found it to be frustratingly accurate. She had spent a huge chunk of her life looking backwards and wondering how she could have been so blind and so stupid, and every time someone else uttered those words it felt as though they were rubbing salt into her already inflamed wounds with sandpaper.

As she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her laptop in fatigue, that awful phrase stuck itself between the countless lyrics, performance dates, and finances that had been rolling around in her head. In this case, her 20/20 vision helped her come to the realization that working on Vocal Adrenaline stuff for four hours straight was not the best idea she ever had. Even though it had successfully distracted her from more significant and depressing matters, she was suffering a massive headache as a result.

Where was the refreshing satisfaction that was supposed to have come from spending the time doing something productive for her students? All she felt was lousy. She was becoming so weary of caring and giving so much up for Glee. What good did any of those damn trophies do for her? They couldn't rectify her mistakes or fill the emptiness inside. All they did was collect dust and cause her to waste half a day every month cleaning them.

From her spot on her sitting-room couch, she stared at her unused fireplace and imagined it roaring with tall flames, fueled by meaningless sheet music and her many notebooks of show-choir notes. Ah, there was that satisfaction that she was waiting for! She should have been ashamed at the thought, considering she had been largely neglecting Vocal Adrenaline for the last few days, but she was starting to become estranged from it all. It was reminiscent of her feelings about becoming a star after Rachel was born: it was important and she should care, but she just _didn't_ anymore.

She might have believed that the emotion (or lack of) would pass with time, that once this craziness with Rachel passed everything would straighten itself out again, but after her conversation with Will Schuester earlier that day that did not seem very likely. She exhaled miserably, burying her face into her hands. She didn't want to think about it.

She wasn't hungry but she figured some food, as well as some aspirin, in her stomach would probably be good for her. She trudged to the kitchen, pulling out random boxes of Chinese food to make a plate, trying to work up an appetite for it. She really didn't feel like chow mein or chicken with broccoli, but she had a fridge full of it and she didn't want to let it go to waste. While it was spinning in the microwave, she moved around the kitchen, finding the low-dosage pain pills in one cabinet and a drinking glass from another.

She was working on auto-pilot mostly; she had lived many years alone and the sameness was just a part of the package. So it wasn't until she had taken a gulp of the water and swallowed the pills that she really thought about the cup in her hands and the clear liquid inside of it.

"_When I was little and I used to get sad, my dads would bring me a glass of water. It got so I couldn't tell if I was sad or just…thirsty."_

Any glass of water she ever held would simply be that: a glass of water. It would never be a means of comfort or a fond memory. There was nothing that she had ever owned or touched that would have even an ounce of the same meaning for Rachel as a cup of water from her fathers' hands. What was worst was that Shelby couldn't think a single way of changing that.

To imagine a future with Rachel was difficult. What did it matter that she loved her little girl and wanted her more than anything if she couldn't ever _truly_ have her? There were already two people who called the teenager "daughter" and a three's a crowd. What's more, Shelby knew very well that the Berrys wanted her far away. They would never accept her presence, and they must have been going crazy with Shelby complicating everyone's lives.

"_She's clearly convinced herself that you are as committed to this reunion as she is, and I don't think you are."_

Shelby had been careful not to try and encourage Rachel. She had known since she first walked away from Rachel in the auditorium that she was harmful for the girl but that didn't change how she felt. It was possible that she had given herself away too much and as a result Rachel believed that they would have a happily ever after.

Things weren't that easy. There _were_ no happy endings.

"_I really need a mom right now."_

Shelby didn't know how she could be a mom to her little girl. She _wasn't_ Mom. If she were, she wouldn't have only have met her daughter three days before. She wouldn't have had to have gotten Rachel's cell phone number from the girl's boyfriend, nor would she have had to convince that boy to befriend her in the first place just so she could figure out a way to know her. She wouldn't have had to learn that the girl was a long-time vegan after offering to make her dinner. She wouldn't have had to deduce from the background of Rachel's MySpace videos that her favorite color was pink. She wouldn't be brokenhearted to know that her little girl was already greatly loved.

Shelby was not blind to how it hurt Rachel to hold back calling her own mother "Mom" and that she only resisted out of respect. If she allowed Rachel to regard her as Mom, how much would that snowball? How much would be expected of Shelby that she wouldn't be able to live up to? Shelby was no Mom; she was a lonely has-been who once played surrogate to a nice gay couple so she could make money to live out an idealistic pipe dream.

Hadn't Rachel ever wondered what kind of mature adult willingly signs a contract prohibiting contact with the biological child that adult carried within her own womb for nine months of her life? Shelby thought about that all of the time and she felt strong hatred for that person. Perhaps Rachel was too naïve to really see that or to recognize how damaged and inadequate Shelby really was.

Shelby had spent nearly 17 years of her life suffering with her emotions on her own and in silence. If she had spread out her weight onto supports like family and friends as her doctors and the surrogacy agency had recommended, she would have fallen through the crumbling base; her family disregarded her and her "friends" had been too preoccupied with their lives to give a damn about hers. Friendship was a funny thing— it was possible to remain delusional and oblivious about it until life was at its hardest and so-called friends showed their true colors.

By the time she found someone who really cared about her years later, she still wasn't able to face the shame and guilt in handing off her baby to someone else. Scott never knew and in that fantastically clear hindsight Shelby knew that he would have been beside himself with rage and disappointment if he did know, particularly after her surgery. She nearly told him once a few weeks after her operation, but she had begun to notice that he had already started to change. His gaze was no longer one of adoration but of waning endurance and it was in that instant of near confession that Shelby realized that the man she loved no longer felt the same way about her. They had been holding hands when she had accepted that she was alone once again. Three weeks later, that theory became an actuality.

When she thought back to her surgery, she remembered the smell of the hospital, the daze of the drugs and the hours she spent by herself listening to the constant beeping of her heart monitor. Once the faceless doctors had removed her uterus, she felt strange in her own body, just as she had when she had conceived Rachel. It was a philosophical reminder that her psyche and her body were separate entities and if she had believed in a higher power or heaven she might have been more able to accept life in her rebellious, deteriorating casing. She also might have made the depressing conclusion that she was receiving her due for the inexcusable sin of abandoning her baby. As it were, she simply believed her life and her luck to be shitty.

It was impossible to think back seven years to when she lay in that stiff hospital bed with innumerable tubes with unspecified functions running in and out of her without reflecting on the previous time she had been hospitalized. Cloudy, newborn eyes had haunted her, and in that sterile hospital bed she had cried for days about the loss of the daughter she had given up as well as the daughter she would never have.

Nothing had changed since then. She had lost her little girl the moment she put her pen to that contract and every cup of water would also serve as a slap of that reality for her, just as the scar near her navel would forever exist as wretched reminder of her infertility.

Liquid sloshed over the rim of the glass as she clutched it dangerously tight in her trembling hand. With a harsh wail of despair and an uncharacteristic break of control, Shelby hurled the glass away, her fierce eyes watching as it shattered against the refrigerator door and showered her kitchen with water and shards of sharp glass.

"Shit," she muttered, deflated, and ran her hand through her hair as she took in what she had done. Unsurprisingly, the outburst had failed to make her feel better, and instead of relief she was left with even more distress _and_ a mess to clean up. Her food was forgotten about in the microwave as she disappeared into her garage to find a dustpan and a mop to deal with the simplest of her problems.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: All right everyone. Unless I make a big decision, this is the second to last chapter. I haven't finished, but hopefully I'll finally feel pressured into persevering by posting this. This is short but it is important because Shelby finally makes some big decisions. She's going to need your help through this, so please review and give her your love and support, okay?**

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Will Schuester had mentioned that she was dramatic and that was no lie. But Shelby Corcoran wasn't the whiny, overemotional kind, nor was she over-the-top, exaggerated, crazy theatrical type. Her view of theatricality was based on her experiences with life and she was quick to opine that expressions of deep, heartfelt emotions should never be anything but deep and heartfelt. To her, being dramatic was about being gripping, powerful and impressive, and if anyone could have seen her late that evening – wrapped in a worn throw and hunched over her grand piano, playing as if the world was listening – they would have barely grasped how dramatic Shelby Corcoran could be.

Her experienced fingers flew over the ivory keys, producing melodies that she had never heard before and probably wouldn't have been able to recreate later. Conceivably, they could have been interpretations of the emotions that she was feeling at that moment in time, but they more simply could have been random notes arbitrarily strung together. Occasionally, when she hit a bad chord, she would outright curse at herself but she would continue playing until the frustration faded away.

She felt drunk but she wasn't; she was simply experiencing a level of emotion that she typically only felt under the influence of too much alcohol. Her piano wasn't her means of escapism but rather an instrument to cope with the intricacies of her feelings. It never really solved the problem, but she was wordlessly and often thoughtlessly able to find peace within herself. Music was her therapy.

However, some real therapy probably wouldn't be a bad idea, Shelby decided dolefully upon hitting another sour chord. In exasperation she brought her fingers down solidly on the keys, purposefully generating an obnoxious noise, before shutting the top and bringing her session to an unsatisfying close.

She leaned forward with her elbows on the ebony lid in front of her and rubbed her tired eyes. Glancing up at the wall clock, she saw it was almost 11 o'clock in the evening and she moaned in aggravation before dropping her head down upon her folded arms. She hadn't had any great epiphanies about how she should handle things with Rachel, though she had given the subject a fair amount of thought. She knew something had to be done; she shouldn't feel this rotten all of the time and she was evidently causing problems with Rachel by giving her what were no doubt false hopes. The role of Mom had large shoes, and she didn't think she would be able to fill them acceptably for either of them to be happy. Nor could they simply be friends; Shelby knew that would never be enough.

She spun angrily off of the piano bench, the throw falling gracefully off of her shoulders, and paced around her den, unwilling to lose her temper again but unable to calm herself. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why was it that no matter what conclusion Shelby came to, none were agreeable? This was one reason she was so disinclined to believe in religions; so many preached about good and evil and the like as if they were mutually exclusive and exhaustive yet life was full of this vast spectrum of grays and ambiguity. If only she could be fallacious and assume that there was one right answer and one wrong answer, then she could pick the one she knew was best, the curtains would close and she and Rachel could take their bows to thunderous applause.

Yeah, that would be the day.

She had to make a decision and whatever that decision would be had to be something that would be passable for both of them. There was nothing that she could do at this point that wouldn't cause stress on the two of them as well as Rachel's family but there was one choice she could make, that while painful, would allow for them to continue on almost as they had before they had found each other. Rachel would be fine without her; she didn't seek Shelby out because of some burning hole inside of her heart but instead found her by happenstance (and slight manipulation).

And as for Shelby, well… She didn't know how she would be. But it didn't matter.

She strode into her bedroom and found her Blackberry on her bedside table. It was difficult to ignore the judgmental stuffed animal sitting next to the phone but she did her best as she located Rachel's number in her contact list. She shouldn't call, considering the hour, and opted for a text message instead.

She sat on the edge of her bed in silence for at least a couple of minutes, staring at the blinking cursor and struggling to figure out what to say. What she _wished _she could say was, "Hey baby, I want you to know that I've loved you for all of your life and I always will love you," but considering what she _needed _to say, that would almost certainly make things more difficult.

_We need to meet. There are things that we should talk about and I don't want to do it over text or phone. It's important._

What must only have been a minute or two seemed like an eternity to Shelby as she waited for a response. Finally her phone beeped.

_Is everything ok? does it need to be now? ive just finished revising my rather extensive resume & im really tired._

_No, but it needs to be soon,_ Shelby texted back, her stomach wrenching as she typed. _Could I possibly meet you before school? I don't think I can get away from Carmel until late tomorrow._

_Ok,_ Rachel's text read. _i was gonna practice in the auditorium in the morning. meet me there 7?_

_See you at 7. Good night, Rachel._

Shelby put the phone back down on the nightstand and tried not to think about how that was the first time she had ever wished her only child good night. She tried not to think that it would be the last.

She ran her finger across the Blackberry's ball absentmindedly, her focus falling on Peanut, the little blue elephant, which rested next to her phone charger. Peanut was the only keepsake she had from this short week with Rachel and if tomorrow morning went as she expected it to, it would be the only thing of Rachel's she might ever have. All Rachel had of hers was a costume she had been pressured into making and a crummy set of work-out clothes that were too big for the girl's petite body. That wasn't how Shelby wanted it to be. She wanted to be preserved in something special to Rachel and even though she wouldn't have a place next to her dads in Rachel's family, she had an idea of how to be next to them in the girl's heart.

She just hoped she could remember where she put that old glassware her mother gave her as an engagement present all those years ago.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I am really, really sorry that it took so long. I wasn't neglecting this last chapter or you at all; not a day went by that I didn't think about it. But in contrast to when I wrote most of this story, when I was stuck home with highly contagious pinkeye, I've been enormously and exhaustingly busy in the last couple of weeks. I spent some the time helping Cissy Black Malfoy with her Shell fic **_**You and I,**_** and I'm glad I did because she's an excellent writer and it's a great story. You should all go check it out! To make up for the time it took to post, I'm pleased to announce that this chapter is about twice as long as any of the others. But, uh, don't be mad at me if it doesn't go the way you want. Though this is the last chapter of this story, keep in mind that Shelby knows better than to believe that there are "happy endings" because life goes on, even after the best – and yes, sometimes the worst – occurs. So this really isn't the end, is it?**

* * *

When Shelby awoke the next morning, there was no hesitancy or grogginess. Her eyes sprang open and she stared ahead at her wall, unusually coherent and completely unemotional. Part of her wondered if she had even fallen asleep in the first place though she knew better. She had been up late working on her present for Rachel, and after that she simply couldn't relax; she had finally passed out around two in the morning. Turning in bed, her unfocused eyes gazed upward at her dimly-lit ceiling and she wondered if she could possibly force herself to rest more. It wasn't going to happen. Her mind was already set in motion and shifting gears, working its way up to overdrive, and before long she wouldn't be able to hold still let alone sleep. She gave up on the notion. With a sigh, she realized it was only 4:38 a.m. and reached forward to turn off the alarm that was going to go off in nearly an hour.

It was still dark outside and everything seemed quieter than it ever had before. There were no cars on the street, no sounds of televisions or stereos from the neighbors, no birds singing, nothing. It was if she was the only one awake. Maybe it was true. The silence was entirely deafening and in her distress she pulled her arms closer to her chest in an attempt to find comfort in solitude. It was then she realized she had her blanket clutched in a twisted, wrinkled knot in her hands and she consciously forced herself to let go of the bundle of fabric and take a deep breath.

She rolled off of the mattress and muttered vulgarly when her foot remained tangled in the sheets, causing her to nearly fall forward out of her bed. Remaining calm was going to be a chore for her that day, Shelby figured, kicking away the maddening linens as she straightened up. She _really_ needed some coffee.

She shuffled through her house, ignoring the many reminders of Rachel along the way: the small stuffed animal, which was illuminated by her digital alarm clock; her cell phone, which held her text-message conversation from the previous night; the vanity, which had the heart-shaped necklace that Rachel held in her hand only a couple of days before; the empty guest bedroom, which would only seem emptier after her meeting with Rachel that morning; the loose CDs in the living room that Shelby hadn't put away since Rachel looked at them; and lastly, the mug that Rachel had used for her hot tea, still upside-down in the drying rack next to Shelby's sink. Needless to say, when she sipped the coffee out of her own mug, she wished it was spiked with something else besides sugar.

She got herself a bowl of granola cereal and took it and her coffee out onto her back porch, sliding on a pair of slippers near the back door as she did so. The sun was nearly ready to break over the horizon so hazy light illuminated the sky and her backyard. It was embarrassingly neglected. The grass was at least a couple of inches longer than the HOA would appreciate, and the spot where she always thought she'd want a small flower or vegetable garden was filled with dry dirt and weeds. She had never made time for it and as she reflected on the recent past, Shelby was at a loss why. In her mind's eye, the last few years were a blur of insignificance; why is it that she couldn't have found an occasion here and there to take time for herself? How could she have wasted so long?

It was a brisk morning. Shelby nearly squeaked when she dropped down on the freezing wood bench outside of her sliding-glass door, but she clutched her steaming coffee close between bites of chewy oats. It was worth it when the sun finally rose, when rainbows of color saturated the starry sky. It had been years since she watched the day begin and once again, she wasn't sure why that was.

Her eyes focused on the disappearing stars and she took a long breath of the cold, crisp air through her nose. She never took the time to stargaze either anymore either, though she always felt a connection with the glittering lights. Les Brown's worn-out cliché filled her mind: "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you will be among the stars." If only that were true. She aimed high but was never a star, but she knew someone who was destined to shine. It was Nietzsche who uttered, "You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star," and despite its negative suggestion towards her internal condition, it was in that quote she found more consolation. This was the second time in her existence her heart felt like it was rupturing in her chest because she knew she had to give up her daughter, but from that agony and despair came the greatest hope for Rachel's life. Her chaos was necessary for that dancing, singing star to appear.

She went inside, dumping her empty bowl and mug in the sink. Everything was still so quiet, but this was a more normal quiet as the world had begun to awaken around her. It didn't change the pangs of loneliness she felt as she walked through her dark, still house, her awareness of it heightened and her attitude about it worsened. What did it matter that she had nice things if she would always be alone with them? What had she been thinking when she purchased that 50-inch plasma four years ago? Did she know then that she would be the only one who would sit in front of it? And why did she bother angling her grand piano so those on the sofas in the den could watch her like they were at a concert? It hadn't done her any good, not in the last seven years anyway.

Last autumn, before she had seen Rachel at her Sectionals performance, she would not have thought like this. She had accepted life as it was and persevered. But she was tired of living in denial. She wanted more, and in a beautiful vision she imagined Rachel in her home with her, talking and twirling and performing for her, and in this dream there were no loving fathers waiting for her to come home. It was a selfish and terrible thing to imagine but Shelby could not censor the thoughts. She was tired of being alone; she wanted a family of her own.

Her nuclear family, her fiancé— they had all been disappointed in her. It killed her that she had only one person left in the world she truly cared about and because of a crummy situation, that person – her own daughter – would be disappointed too. Maybe one day Rachel would forgive her. Hopefully she would.

It was more than an hour and a half later when she was sitting in her parked car, staring at McKinley's auditorium. She had arrived a little after 6:30 although she wasn't supposed to meet Rachel until 7; even after taking a really long, hot shower and pulling her appearance together so she looked well-rested (despite the fact that she wasn't), she still had plenty of leftover time with nothing to do but brood with some alternative rock playing in the background (a less emotionally depressing substitute to some of the classic-rock balladeers she had been listening to the last couple of weeks).

Shelby couldn't decide if she was surprised to see Rachel show up 15 minutes early. There were a few other cars around, no doubt for those students and teachers who had some sort of A-hour or 0-hour or whatever McKinley called their early-morning classes, which was probably why Rachel hadn't noticed Shelby's SUV when one of her dads – she couldn't see which one from where she was twisted around in her car, watching them – pulled through the parking lot in front of the auditorium entrance and let Rachel off. She smiled and waved adoringly before the dad drove away, and Shelby didn't sense any of that "drop me off down the road because I'm embarrassed to be seen with you" nonsense that infiltrated teen movies and television shows. At seeing the frustratingly cute scene, Shelby's face steeled and her hands gripped her steering wheel so tightly that it hurt her fingers.

Her attentive eyes followed the teenager all the way to the auditorium doors and she was so in awe at her little girl's beauty that her breathing drastically slowed. Considering she was about to break up with her daughter, was it wrong that she loved how tiny Rachel was, or that she found her proud stride to be hilarious and endearing? Was it narcissistic to think that Rachel's most stunning features were the ones that had been inherited from her? She knew that these sorts of thoughts would inevitably lead to the covetous ones that she had been battling for so many years and she shook her steering wheel angrily.

She had no idea how she would be able to walk into that auditorium, look Rachel in the eye and remain in control of herself. She wasn't sure if there was a right thing to say or a right way to say it; her plan was just to be hard, a quality she had been tactlessly reminded about the day before. If she talked straight and kept things curt then it would be like ripping off a bandage. Or waxing, she thought with a violent twitch of her eye. Rachel would not have to know how torn up her mother was if all she saw was resolve, and hopefully she would believe it would was futile to fight her. If Rachel did fight or beg or cry, Shelby didn't think she would be able to handle it; it had been too long since she had felt this fragile and didn't think she could hold it together forever.

Her self-loathing was hitting new heights. If she were someone else, she'd have already pulled herself out of the SUV by her jacket collar and yelled at herself until her precious voice was hoarse. She would have shouted about the situation she had chosen to put herself and Rachel in, about the insensitive and unpolished ending she was about to give their short-lived relationship, about her pathetic fears and about her wasted life.

In some ways, it was going to be easy to leave Rachel because she was doing the girl a favor; Rachel would no longer need to feel required to get to know her mother by virtue of their biological relationship alone. There would be no need to act as though she accepted or liked the dark or damaged parts of Shelby, which the older woman knew were plentiful and burdensome. Rachel would be better off.

She kept that thought in mind and used it to motivate her out of her seat. It was still eight minutes until the hour but since Rachel was already there Shelby didn't see the point in waiting around any longer. She slammed her car door shut behind her and with her eyes focused on the door, she willed herself to the building and inside. Shelby knew exactly where she would find Rachel; it was exactly where she would have been. Her heart was beating like crazy as she made her way to the stage but outwardly she knew she appeared calm. It was going to be her only defense, Shelby knew, and when she finally stepped onto the stage and saw Rachel standing ahead of her, she took a deep breath and put on a confident demeanor.

Shelby's clacking heels caught the keen hearing of her daughter, who turned her head to watch the woman's approach. Rachel was impassive, but Shelby could easily imagine the look of pain on the girl's expressive face if she knew how her own mother planned to hurt her feelings in only a minute's time. It was a reminder that she still had a moment of pretense in which she was optimistic and they shared a future. She did not want to let it go to waste.

"How'd your dads come up with the name Rachel?" she asked as she moved around the piano. It was not an empty conversation-starter for Shelby; for years she had wondered if her baby was simply given a good Jewish name or if the moniker held some special meaning for the men. How could someone choose that one perfect name for their child out of all the names in the world? How could they have known that Rachel would fit their daughter so well?

"They were, um, big _Friends_ fans," Rachel told her, and as a small smile graced her face Shelby's fell. She should have laughed but it was harder than expected to hear that the Berrys had picked a name from something that had defined them. It was their first step to setting apart the child that would only ever be theirs.

Rachel was looking to her to speak but nothing was coming out. She had spent a great amount of time since she had texted Rachel the night before trying to figure out what she was going to say but as those big brown eyes watched her, none of her prepared speeches that favored directness and logic over sensitivity seemed right. Most of the people she had loved in her life had walked away from her so she had little practice at doing the same to others. How could she possibly justify her decision? Just as she had done the first day they met, Shelby was once again relying on their inherent connection to help her because she was at a loss on her own. It seemed that it whatever faith she put in their bond paid off this time because Rachel finally said with a small shrug, "I know why you're here. To say goodbye."

Rachel wasn't even asking, Shelby realized with self-reproach. How could she have so stupid to believe that the girl was at all disillusioned and ignorant? The entire time she sat alone in her home thinking about everything that was wrong with her relationship with her daughter and everything that was wrong with herself, Rachel also had the chance to reflect on their short time together and on the cold, bitter woman who had given birth to her. When did Rachel first realize that Shelby had given up hope? From the start Shelby had hardly shown any enthusiasm but that wasn't indicative of how she had felt. She didn't want Rachel to believe that she had never wanted her because that was the opposite of true.

"I really wanted this to work," she said with earnestness. She nonverbally pleaded with Rachel to understand how true that was, and as the girl nodded slightly Shelby leaned forward onto the piano and attempted to explain herself. "Do you know what really turned me? That story that you told me about your dads and how they bring you water when you were sad. We're never going to have anything like that. It's too late for us. I just think that anything we share right now is going to be confusing for you."

"I just don't understand," Rachel said, and the emotion that Shelby had been anticipating from her began to break through, though not quite how she had expected it. She was not hysterical or desperate, just incredibly sad. "You're my mom; I feel awful right now and I should just want to fall into your arms and let you rock me and tell me everything is going to be fine, but I just don't feel it."

Shelby should want to pull the girl to her and whisper reassurances in her ear, but she didn't feel it either. Unlike Rachel, however, she knew why.

"It's because I'm your mother, but I'm not your mom."

Rachel nodded slightly and Shelby was under the impression that she finally grasped as she did why their relationship wasn't working. The comprehension came in one harsh reminder for her, just like it did for Shelby when Rachel had first told her about the glass of water. They were once again virtual strangers, bonded only by the fact that Shelby had grown her. All that she and Rachel Berry had between them was their genetics and their coincidental similarities and that wasn't enough to make Shelby Mom. It was unfortunate for Shelby that Rachel would be her daughter no matter what and it was absolutely killing her to stand there and witness her child be so miserable because of her.

"So, what, do we just pretend that we don't know each other now?"

It was a ridiculous idea, but it was one that Shelby had already thought of so she couldn't judge the girl for it. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't go back to pretending that she didn't have a daughter. As she got older and more introverted her thespian abilities waned, and to act as though she didn't have a younger version of herself running around and to pretend that she wasn't in love with her were things she was not capable of doing. Nevertheless, they couldn't go on in this unhealthful way. There was no correct way for Shelby to act around Rachel because whatever she did would be intrusive and/or problematical for her. Shelby had already realized that the best solution for them was to live their lives separately as they had before.

But this wasn't really goodbye. This wasn't forever. It couldn't be; if it were, Shelby would die inside.

"That seems silly," Shelby told her. "Let's just be grateful for one another. From afar. For a while."

While Shelby had lost faith for the present, she still held some for the future. One day when they were both more grown-up and capable of having whatever kind of relationship a surrogate mother and biological daughter could have, maybe then they could be happy. For all she knew that could be just months or it could be several years from now, though she hoped it wasn't the latter. In the mean time, they would see each other in the Glee circuit and Shelby planned to thrill her daughter by sharing one of the few things she never screwed up. "Don't think for a second I'm going to go soft on you during Regionals."

When Rachel sniffled, Shelby momentarily wasn't sure if she should have made such a joke, but then the girl said confidently, "Bring it," and laughed quietly. It was delightful and it broke Shelby's heart.

All of the years following Rachel's birth that had been filled with longing and misery, awaiting the day she could finally have her daughter, had now officially been wasted. She would wonder later if she had made some terrible mistake in letting Rachel go without giving it her damndest while she had the chance. She would think that she should have forced herself in on the Berrys' lives and accepted that while the situation wasn't ideal, she could still be a mother to Rachel. Rachel's dads had had plenty of time with their daughter – sixteen years of the most enjoyable years of her life – and it could have been Shelby's turn whether they liked it or not. But Shelby would always know that she couldn't have done that. She wasn't _that _selfish.

This whole week was a time of regrets which was something Shelby wasn't used to. But there would be one regret that would outshine the others if she allowed it to happen.

"Can I have a hug goodbye?"

As Rachel continued to twist her hands together, Shelby thought about how unfair her request was after all of the unhappiness she had put upon her teenage daughter, but the girl nodded anyway and said in a faint voice, "Sure."

They met halfway around the piano. Despite everything Shelby had done, Rachel still managed a pretty smile and a small laugh when her eyes met her mother's dark ones. Shelby had thought about this moment Rachel's entire life so when it came she didn't waste any more time fretting about the future. She just wanted to hold her daughter.

They had first touched when Rachel took her office keys from her days before, and then later that evening Shelby had accidentally tickled Rachel's side when she was measuring her for the Gaga costume. But this time, the contact was purposeful and significant. She had wrapped her arms around her daughter's petite form, Rachel had done the same to her, and when they pulled one another together Shelby could feel the girl's head melt against the crook of her neck. This was the moment that truly mattered in their reunion.

It was a terrible travesty that the first time that this mother would ever embrace her baby was when the girl was practically an adult, but it was worse that it was a gesture of farewell. If someone could cut Shelby's torso open they would probably discover that all of insides were torn apart, barely functioning. Still, one of those small pieces was content because Rachel felt so good against her.

Shelby thought about the few hugs she had experienced over the last few years. Most of them came from students: excited ones when they won competitions, grateful ones when they graduated and consoling ones when they cried. The last time she saw her sister she had happily squeezed Julie and her two little boys several times throughout the visit. She even thought about how she often wrapped her own arms around her body to generate a feeling of security for herself. This hug was unlike any of those: it was profound. It was as if the moment she enfolded Rachel in her arms the hole inside of her filled a little. The world could have begun to collapse and burn around them and she wouldn't have cared. That heartrending moment in the hospital 16 years before in which she watched the nurses walk out of her room with the newborn she had ever even gotten to touch suddenly didn't matter as much. She was finally holding her daughter.

For a moment when Shelby moved her hand against Rachel's back, she felt the girl's rapid heartbeat under her sensitive fingertips and she was taken back to a time long ago. In the last couple of months of her pregnancy, Shelby developed the habit of resting her hands against her inflated abdomen; so often her fingertips could feel the baby move within her, and a couple of times she had even felt the fluttering feeling of the baby's pulse through her skin. This person she held, whose arms were wrapped around her shoulders and whose unfamiliar shampoo smelled faintly of fruit, was _her baby—_ the same being she had felt within her womb so many years ago. How could this grown, mature young lady be that little thing that had squirmed inside of her every time it heard Shelby's voice?

It was hard to let go but she did it anyway, knowing it was necessary. As Rachel looked down, apparently collecting her thoughts, Shelby instinctually reached out to stroke her hair. It was the fitting motion of a mom; that was why she hesitated and let her hand fall away. When Rachel turned her gaze back upon her mother, the light of the stage illuminated her eyes and Shelby marveled at the detail and depth she had never seen in them before. She hurriedly attempted to memorize them before it would be too late, ignoring the painful clenching of her gut as she did so.

"Could you do me one more favor?" Shelby asked, watching closely as Rachel nodded shyly. She smiled a little bit, glad that Rachel was indulging her, and reached for her case that lay next to Rachel's star-speckled book bag on the piano. "Sometime when you're thirsty…" Her smile widened as she pulled out the box from her leather bag and began opening it to show Rachel her gift. "Can you get yourself some water from this cup?"

She held out the goblet. After much searching, she finally found the glassware in her garage that this cup had been part of. After she and Scott had gotten engaged, her mother – the classic housewife – had given her this and an extra set of fancy silverware (that was also still boxed) in hopes that one day Shelby would follow in her footsteps and hold lavish house parties or invite people over for Hanukkah every year. Shelby was glad that after all this time some use finally came out of the crystal set. She had decorated the cup herself and any imperfections in the adhered ornamentations could have been blamed on her trembling fingers. Fatigue and emotional turmoil made the project a chore but despite that, Shelby was glad to finally share something special with her daughter. Something of hers. "Gold stars are kind of my thing."

She seemed to react to that, immediately springing her gaze up to the taller woman with wide eyes, and Shelby wished she could know what Rachel was thinking. Rachel took the goblet into her own hands and looked upon it with a gentle, emotional smile. "Of course." She stepped away, clutching the glass close to her chest. Her expression was still beautiful.

Shelby was grateful for her daughter's kindness. It would have been all too simple for Rachel to have denied the gift and been cruel in return to the mother who by all appearances didn't want her. She would have accepted and deserved that reaction; she had even expected it. But Rachel was a good person and that was going to make it all the more difficult for Shelby to walk away from her. It was with strain that she began to close her leather case, aware that there was nothing left to be said.

"Shelby?"

Hazel eyes flashed up at this. It was hard to hear Rachel call her Mom but hearing her first name from her daughter's mouth wasn't much better. It knotted her stomach up with pain and regret, and the derisive part of her thought that she didn't deserve to be addressed by Rachel at all. She resumed her place across the piano from her, needing the space and protection the large wooden instrument provided.

"Before you go, will…will you sing with me?" Rachel asked with a nervous voice, as though she was worried that the other woman would shoot down the unusual request, but seemed to be forgetting that she was talking to a woman who would have made it on Broadway if only she had more heart. (As one director told her pitilessly, "You oughta lighten up a bit—you're quite frightening, you know. You'd make a good villain if you didn't have the voice of a protagonist. Sorry babe.") She was still a Broadway enthusiast however, so the idea of singing her feelings wasn't a crazy one. Once again, it seemed that Rachel took after her mother. "Just one time. It's sort of a fantasy of mine and it would really mean a lot to me."

There were many things Shelby couldn't do for Rachel to make her happy: She couldn't be a mom. She couldn't be a friend. She couldn't be kinder or more accessible. She couldn't even be someone for Rachel to look up to and respect because she was no more than a washed-up teacher in Bumfuck, Ohio. But she could sing with her, and in doing so, she could share something with her daughter that couldn't be duplicated by her dads or taken away by time or shame. "I would be honored," she told her truthfully, and smiled in a way she had not done in a very long time.

"Brad!" Rachel called aloud, and Shelby looked over her shoulder, surprised that anyone else was in the auditorium this early in the morning. "He's always just around," Rachel explained as a middle-aged man appeared from backstage as though he had indeed been there all along. It was nice for Shelby to know that there were good people like this man around who were always willing to help Rachel out and Shelby gladly greeted him as he took a wordless seat at the piano. Rachel apparently had copies of whatever she was planning to rehearse that morning – it was hard to fathom how they had come so close to losing Sectionals when their few numbers were stolen though easy to realize how they had pulled off the win upon consideration of Rachel's determined preparedness – and she handed a copy to Brad before giving one to Shelby.

"Poker Face," Shelby read silently, amused that New Directions was still continuing their Lady Gaga approach, and as her experienced eyes traveled the sheet music she noticed this was unlike the original. Rachel had found Lady Gaga's acoustic version of Poker Face and printed it out, and Shelby wished she had thought of it two weeks ago when she was coming up with new possibilities for Vocal Adrenaline's set list because it was a terrific song. While it was written to be sexual, it didn't have to be; still, as Brad began playing the piano, she didn't care about the meaning of the song, she just wanted to hear Rachel sing it.

For the first few seconds, the Glee coach in Shelby was scrutinizing how Rachel kept some of Gaga's jazziness to the piece yet brought it up for her soprano voice, but when she began making silly faces, the real Shelby – a woman who had once aspired to be famous, who had once chosen to be a surrogate mother to a couple who couldn't have kids of their own but secretly loved the child she gave up, and who was a great musician but an even better teacher – took over, raising her eyebrows in return. She had gotten a glimpse of this playfulness when Rachel had been at her house the other night after her fourth or fifth cup of caffeinated tea, but this time, since Rachel was as sober as the underlying mood, Shelby was drawn to her like a moth to a detrimental, dazzling flame. Rachel was sweet and irresistible, like strawberry ice cream on a hot day, and it was obvious she knew it. She was wilily catching her mother in a net made of charm and Shelby was letting it happen, intermittently smiling like an idiot as they moved around the piano.

Shelby was ready to go when Rachel pointed out her cue and, despite the fact that she hadn't sung for days, powerfully performed the chorus while watching Rachel's smile spread. It should have been strange how good she felt in view of the circumstances, but it was as if the moment she filled her lungs with breath to sing something therapeutic laced the oxygen. Playing instruments helped her find composure but there was something about singing that made her feel alive and real. And if producing music with nothing but her body was natural stimulation, she decided, then hearing Rachel's voice merge harmoniously with hers was like drugs in her system.

As she sang, she couldn't stop certain emotions – the ones she usually kept at bay – from filling her, like pride and gratification in her daughter. Sometimes it didn't seem that long ago that she had rested her hands on a rounded stomach and imagined the potential that grew within it, and in that short amount of time Rachel had become absolutely perfect. The only way Rachel could have seemed better to Shelby was if she could have felt more responsible for how the young woman had turned out. Still, for a moment she could overlook that because, really, she did have a part in making Rachel who she was.

Rachel's expression was one of wonder as Shelby's voice built up height and strength, and Shelby was intrigued that she wasn't the only one who watched with awe for once. To be someone that her daughter could admire and be proud of was more enlivening to her than any follow-spot and audience ever could be. She would think about this later, about how for years she had learned how to play countless instruments, slept with many men, and searched for that ideal role to play on stage that would make her finally feel complete and satisfied, yet one moment with her daughter – one look of admiration from her pretty face – did more than all of these put together. This realization would impact her greatly down the road.

There was a moment that things changed emotionally at the end of the third refrain. Maybe it was because the song had passed the half-way point and Shelby knew her time with her daughter was almost over. Maybe it was because Rachel's expression momentarily slipped from its silly one, exposing Shelby to the anxiety that they were both obviously working hard to ignore. There was only about a minute left of the song, however, so she trapped it inside and kept the mood light between them; Rachel seemed to be doing the same. It was easy to let it go and resume the happiness because Rachel was so outright talented. Shelby couldn't help but be impressed by the young girl's ability to harmonize so well and it really was enjoyable for her to hear that fantastic voice blend and contrast with hers. In fact, she hadn't had so much fun in a long time.

She really needed to stop liking her daughter. But _damn,_ it was hard.

She wasn't sure if Rachel mimicked her expression or if it was the other way around, but as they began the final repeat of the chorus both of their faces fell once more. This time however, there was nothing Shelby could do to cease the distress that rushed through every part of her like a flood in a valley. This was the end. After the final note there would be no more singing, no more help with costumes or homemade gifts, and no more time together. Shelby would leave Rachel just like she was left 16 years before, except once again, Rachel wasn't responsible. She had apologized the first day the met in Carmel's auditorium because she had felt guilty about the awful situation she had put Rachel in, but that one apology would never make up for everything that she had done to her. Shelby would have gotten down on her knees and begged for forgiveness if she thought it would have made a difference at all. But it wouldn't.

"_She's got to love nobody,"_ they finished together, falling into horrible silence. Rachel had that look on her face – the one that Shelby really hated – that made it seem as though there was no greater sadness that she could feel, and just like she had done in Carmel's auditorium the first time they met, she was begging, without words, for Shelby to not go. Shelby's gaze fell from the heart-wrenching sight and she self-consciously glanced at the pianist. He was wordless and expressionless, but Shelby felt so bad about herself that she could see past that and sense his disapproval for causing Rachel to look so wholly miserable. She tried to smile pleasantly at him to express her appreciation for his contribution to their song, but in her mind's eye he was glaring at her to take her leave. She took the imaginary hint and stepped away, her features dropping in distress as she grabbed her bag and pushed some of her hair out of her face.

She stopped only a couple of feet from Rachel. She was back to appearing inexpressive once again and if Shelby were stronger, she would have too. But she had to say goodbye. She just couldn't do it.

"You are really, really good," she said instead, with complete sincerity. She was glad she did because Rachel smiled, and even that slight expression made a lasting impact on Shelby. She stepped forward and placed her hand gently against her daughter's beautiful face. Her heart thudded painfully in her ears as she touched the soft skin, and, unwilling for that brief contact to be the last she would feel, she let her fingers rest against Rachel's bare shoulder as she turned away. Even though Rachel had been smiling this time, Shelby felt worse than she had the last time she had walked away from her little girl. She didn't look back, knowing that if she did she was going to see that tragic expression once again as Rachel watched her go.

Shelby felt out of her body in a way as she distanced herself further from the piano and the amazing person who stood next to it, like she had left part of herself back there while the rest of her was being carried out against its will. She felt limp and useless, as if something were to happen to her – like if one of the heavy curtains lining the sides of the stage fell and crushed her beneath it or if some rogue animal that hid amongst the drama props ran out and attacked her – she couldn't have done anything about it except watch it happen.

She wasn't sure why, but a moment of her childhood arose in her memory. Her grandmother had taken her to New York City for her eighth birthday and she was introduced to musical theatre for the first time. The play was magical, the actors and actresses seemed so stunning, and the music was the best she had ever heard, but when the ensemble took their final bows and the lights lowered into blackness, Shelby remembered being shocked to be in her seat. She had clutched her Playbill to her chest as she and her grandma were pushed and knocked around amidst the loud, blathering audience members as everyone filed out. The young girl and the old woman then joined the late-night world of New York City as they walked blocks from that place of wonderment to the place her grandma had parked. She had clutched the wrinkled hand as tightly as she did the Playbill as they passed by dark streets and smelly alleyways, frightened of the world that contrasted so greatly to the enchanting one of the stage.

It had been thirty years since that night but as Shelby abandoned her daughter after their short-lived time together, she felt just like she had when the curtains closed at her first Broadway show. She had been so emotionally connected to the dreamlike experience that reality seemed to slam down painfully hard upon her. The walk away from Rachel, however, was far more psychologically disturbing than the murkiest corners of New York City and the prospect of life after this moment was immeasurably worse than that of a stiff, moth-eaten metropolitan hotel room.

For years the idea of a mother leaving her child seemed disgusting and unnatural to Shelby, and she had always assumed that had she understood that before she put the ballpoint to the Berry's contract, she wouldn't have signed her child's life away. Yet, despite all of that, when given the choice she opted to do the very thing she thought was so appalling for the sake of her child. Was it love or fear that fed her decision? Her mind was so poor at this point that she couldn't remember how she had come to such an awful conclusion. As she thought of Rachel, her features and her stomach contorted in sadness and she was confounded how it was possible to love someone and then leave them. But she did love her baby girl _so_ much, yet somehow she had left her behind. It was possible, whether she understood it or not.

She had no idea how long it took her to get to her car, but at long last she opened it and climbed in. Her hands were shaking bad enough that she couldn't get the key into the ignition. After trying to get the point into the hole nearly a dozen times it finally slid into place; she was finally able to force her vehicle to start and yank it into gear, carrying her farther away from the girl she was forsaking. When she arrived at Carmel, she couldn't remember anything about the drive over. What roads did she take? Had she stopped at all of the lights? She couldn't recall the face or car of a single other driver she had passed on the way over, yet she was too unfocused to care.

Synthesized beats suddenly broke through the fog in her mind as she put the car into park. For the first time since she climbed in, she was aware of the music that played from the speakers at a very audible volume. She was frozen in place as the lyrics filled her car.

"_Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead. Yesterday is a promise that you've broken. Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes. This is your life and today is all you've got now, and today is all you'll ever have. Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes… This is your life, are you who you want to be? This is your life, are you who you want to be? This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be when the world was younger and you had everything to lose?"_

Shelby jerked the engine off, unable to listen anymore. But the damage was done. Jon Foreman's haunting questions repeated in her mind while her heart beat far too fast to match the song's tempo.

_This is your life._ Her life. Her wretched life. When she and the world were younger, she imagined greatness for herself. She expected, as anyone would, that she would be loved. She never expected that she would be so alone. She was nearing 40 years of age and the only substantial thing that she had accomplished in all of that time never belonged to her. Rachel Berry, the only child she would ever really have, was entirely unknowledgeable of who Shelby really was deep inside and how strongly she felt, and in a way, Rachel was also the only family she felt she truly had. She had no close friends. Her house was an empty, unsettling place, devoid of life.

Those national championships seemed like a stupid thing to live for, she thought bitterly, pulling herself from her reverie. She placed a hand on the passenger seat and tried to connect with the last person who sat in it. But it was too late. The seat was empty and because of her, it always would be.

"_I dreamed a dream in time gone by…"_ she sang softly, her weak voice fading into the silence. She ignored the singer's advice and shut her eyes, feeling the moisture collect there and trying as she always did to prevent them from falling. The anguish that had been running rampant inside of her for days on end was boiling over and in spite of her efforts to stop it, her body began shaking with convulsive, silent sobs. Defeated, she yielded to surge of untended emotions and fell forward against her steering wheel, burying her head in her arms and crying into them.

She hated her life. She hated Glee, she hated Carmel, she hated Broadway's rejection and she hated the Berry's contract. She hated all of these things that defined her as a washed-up, washed-out washout and left her with useless trophies to fill her empty existence. She thought about how naively alive she felt under the bright lights of Carmel's stage a few days ago. In the shadows of her parked car, she felt dead.

_Don't close your eyes…don't close your eyes…_

She looked up, wiping her tear-stained face with her trembling hands. This was her life; it was all she was ever going to have. She had spent so long letting it waste away, wallowing with self-centered grief about it or ignoring it altogether. She knew she now had to deal with what she inadvertently created for herself or risk letting the rest of her life ebb away until she was nothing but a corpse in a box. Focusing on regrets could not mend her broken parts, but if she could tell her students on a daily basis to learn from their mistakes then she could find it in herself to do the same.

There would be a lot she would have to think about. For the first time in 17 years, she was somewhat free of the weight of the incomprehensible connection with the daughter she never knew. At last, she and Rachel were acquainted with each other, and while it wasn't perfect, it was a start. And in meeting Rachel, all of the parts of her life – including her many flaws and her deep desires – which she had been neglecting were becoming clearer to her. Eventually she would come to decisions regarding them, but not while Rachel was still fresh in her mind. Until then, she would leave her alone and do her best to not breakdown in public whenever she thought of her daughter. She would be responsible and honor her commitment to Glee. She would welcome Jesse back and pretend with everyone else that he had not left Carmel for a very special girl.

She opened her car door, stepped down out of her refuge and onto the asphalt of the Carmel parking lot that was represented the bleak, hard world she had to now face. It was fortunate for her that she too was hard, for she was able to enter the school and her classroom with her head held high and a glare at anyone who stared too long at her scruffy appearance.

Hours after she had left Rachel alone by a piano on a stage, Shelby Corcoran stood on the same stage that her and Rachel's short while together began, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her eyes blazing at 26 head-strong teenagers who were moaning from annoyance and weariness after an entire afternoon of singing and dancing.

"Quit complaining. You want me to feel bad for you? Express it through song!"

As the kids groaned, their coach thought that in the end, she could at least show Geoffrey Lancaster that she hadn't let her personal life affect her job. At least one person would be happy.

"Again, from the top! Five, six, seven, eight!"


End file.
